


creep a bit closer, you're terrible at hiding

by highfalutin baby birb (fevered_dreams)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M, Magical Realism, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 16:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fevered_dreams/pseuds/highfalutin%20baby%20birb
Summary: Being a half-succubus, half-dragon doesn’t usually cause Tim too much grief. However, it does sometimes involve being accosted by unwanted suitors and being chased by magical hunters searching for black market wares.Thankfully, Jason’s there to help, in his own way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my first story involving the DC Universe even though i've been a fan for awhile! i hope it turns out well haha

On this beautiful, breezy, and clear night, Tim is sure he is dying, and he hasn’t even had a single drink yet.

“You don’t look so good,” Kon hums. “It’s been a lonely few weeks, I take it?” He’s pouring an impressive amount drinks, thanks to his fancy telekinesis, and none of them are for Tim.

Tim snags one anyway because he deserves it.

Kon doesn’t chastise him for it. Instead, he sets about getting another ready for the bewildered customer who only grows less bewildered the longer he stares at Tim. He looks at Tim with a slow progression of admiration and lust that is, by no means, subtle. Tim smiles at him with the faintest hint of teeth, and the big, gruff man blushes until he’s an unmistakable beacon of desire stranded in a dim bar. The others around him don’t fair much better.

Just a typical day, Tim thinks. It’s reassuring to know that he’s still alluring, even with sallow skin and sunken eyes, and, God, is his skin dry. Even the best moisturizer can only do so much for something this bad, apparently.

“You haven’t found anyone good to sleep with?” Kon continues.

Tim gulps his drink down and barely feels the burn past his utter exhaustion.“I think you already know the answer to that.”

“I keep telling you that you’re too picky,” Kon says. “I mean, it’s not like you’re ever lacking in people who would gladly let you suck out their sex energy, or whatever you call it.”

“Vitality,” Tim says curtly. “I prefer to call it vitality.”

“Or whatever you call it,” Kon says, and Tim wrinkles his nose at his tone. Kon, predictably, ignores that and continues on without a care. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re making life hard for yourself for absolutely no reason.”

Tim waves for another drink with a big, vague gesture that doesn’t really mean anything, but it makes his wrist look nice.

Kon just rolls his eyes and sighs and goes to make him another.

“Just because I can sleep with just about anyone doesn’t mean that I want to or that I even should. Having standards are important, even for a succubus,” Tim replies when his new drink is in hand.

“You’re just saying that because of your big, bad dragon side,” Kon says.

Tim has no good response for that, so he says nothing. Instead, he sips at his drink while Kon smirks; it’s one of the few times that Kon has halfway won an argument, and Tim is determined to not give him too many more small victories. An ego-fueled Kon was impossible to deal with, after all - a trait he got from both Lex and Clark.

Besides, it’s not Tim’s fault that most people don’t have enough power to satisfy him. It’s his dragon half that soaks up most of the vitality, and it almost always demands more and better.

Just as Tim deserves, even if his pickiness has now left him with a permanent headache and nauseating solar flares in the corner of his eye when he moves too quickly.

“Anyway,” Kon says, still riding on his small battle-won high, “are you sure you should be drinking so much when you’re like this?”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Tim replies. “I’m only on my second drink, and I doubt I’ll have much more than this tonight.”

“Because of that fancy gala you’ve got going on tomorrow?” Kon asks.

“You say that as if you’re not also going to be there.”

Kon stills, and Tim narrows his eyes. “You’re going to be there tomorrow, right? Why wouldn’t you be there? You’re Clark’s and Lex’s weird test tube baby, you know.”

“I’m not going to be there because Clark doesn’t want me there,” Kon responds curtly. A few of the glasses clink together loudly, and the bar quits in a small lull until Kon flashes them all a reassuring smile, and Tim has to hand it to him; Kon certainly is charismatic, in his own way.

“So you’re just going to leave me to deal with it all alone?” Tim asks.

“Hey, you try to fight against Clark about something like this.”

“I definitely could.”

This time, Kon is the one to fall silent. Then, he says, “Still, it’s not like you’re actually going to be alone. You’ll have the rest of your Coven there with you. Probably.”

“Oh, yes, I am so glad to have to deal with Dick playing cupid without anyone to help keep him away from me,” Tim huffs.

“That’s because he _is_ a cupid.”

“Which makes it all the more infuriating,” Tim grumbles.

Kon, for once, looks down at Tim with a modicum of sympathy. “Well, you can’t fault him for trying. And, you never know, this might be a good thing for you and your high standards. I doubt Dick would hook you up with someone he didn’t approve of.”

Tim smiles at Kon wryly and makes sure to take one more smooth sip before speaking. “But Dick approves of people like Roy.”

“Oh.” Kon coughs and tries to recover. “But Roy’s not _that_ bad.”

“Bruce would give me hell if I got involved with a member of the Arrow Coven so intimately, though.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“And the hellspawn’s going to be there, too,” Tim says. “He started growing his fangs _and_ claws at the same time, so now he’s even worse than before.”

“Damn,” Kon breathes. “He’s gonna start getting that poisonous breath soon, huh?”

“If you never hear from me again, please let Alfred know that I have and always will love him.”

“You’ll probably be fine,” Kon says, “but I’ll keep that in mind, just in case. At least you’ll have Jason, right?”

At the thought of him, Tim is more than ready to bitch about Jason constantly crashing at his safe havens, but, suddenly, someone sidles up to him, and this someone is far too close. Tim wrinkles his nose but doesn’t immediately draw away because this person feels promising.

He turns, and it takes an embarrassing amount of hide the disdain that threatens to peak through because it’s Ra’s al Ghul, of all people, beside him. Tim is equal parts taken aback and completely unfazed at this revelation.

It’s a weird sensation, he finds.

“How’d you get in here?” Kon demands. This time, some of the empty chairs start rattling, but Ra’s remains undaunted.

“Please don’t insult me like that,” Ra’s drawls. His voice is like pilled satin, and Tim’s lips thin because he prefers silk. “It wasn’t particularly difficult to get into such a shoddily warded establishment like this.”

Kon is more than upset now - courtesy of that signature ego of his - and customers are already starting to trickle out of the place, sending dubious glances their way every now and then. The ones who remain have their gaze fixed on Tim, and he supposes that’s nice. He still has all of his mother’s allure, and maybe he really is getting a bit too tired to be picky now.

A few of them don’t even feel all that bad, maybe.

Of course, Ra’s is also staring straight at Tim, even as he speaks to Kon, and that’s not nearly as comforting. He’s strong, no doubt about it, one of the most powerful shrouds to ever exist - and continue to exist. Something inside Tim roars with satisfaction at his power, but that’s just the dumb, dragon part of Tim purring, imploring Tim to sleep with a Ra’s because he feels strong and worthy.

Tim, as usual, ignores it.

“I guess we have to tell Lex that he needs to up his security spells,” Tim says, attention fixed on Kon even though Ra’s is still far too close.

“You try telling him that,” Kon grumbles.

“You know I will when I see him tomorrow.”

“Good luck,” Kon scoffs.

“Anyway -“ Ra’s voice is laced with the faintest hint of impatience, and Tim can’t help but lick his lips at the shriek of energy that accompanies it. A result of his dumb dragon side, definitely. Logically, Tim is not impressed in the slightest.

“You look a little worn, my dear Timothy,” Ra’s continues. He leers down at Tim, lips crinkled up into a smirk, and Tim bristles at his tone. Even though Tim himself is half-seduction, he’s never been fond of being seduced, especially not by outrageously old shrouds who’ve dabbled in the dark arts for longer than the entire existence of the Drake lineage.

All that time in The Pit has probably turned Ra’s’ cum radioactive.

“How _worn_ I am is none of your concern, Ra’s,” Tim replies smoothly. He takes a step back, deliberate and very noticeable, and hopes that Ra’s will, for once, take the hint and fall back.

He doesn’t.

Ra’s follows Tim, but his stride is longer, so he stands closer than before, so close that Tim can feel the faint waft of body heat licking at his hand. Ra’s is tall, Tim notes, and no, Tim is not jealous. Most people tend to enjoy the fact that he’s a bit… slight.

“My apologies, Tim,” Ra’s says. “I can’t help but worry about you. I care about you a great deal, and you’re quite the sight to behold when you’re well.”

“I’d like to think that I’m a nice sight even when I’m unwell,” Tim responds. He adds a touch of a growl for emphasis, but Ra’s just smiles wider at that.

“Of course you are,” Ra’s says, gentle but thoughtful, like hands smoothing down the creases of a beautiful, silk garment. Ra’s tosses the garment on, and the dragon enjoys the display of splendor. Tim thinks it’s tacky. “But why not be even more stunning? I’m sure you must also feel a bit lackluster, which is the biggest shame of all. You’re absolutely enchanting when you have more energy.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t presume to know how I feel,” Tim says.

“Even when I’m right?”

Tim bites the inside of his cheek, and Kon’s mouth twitches upwards.

Maybe Tim shouldn’t bother telling Luthor just how bad the security here is because Kon is, apparently, unbothered.

Tim opens his mouth, ready to deflect or just tell Ra’s to leave him the fuck alone because Tim doesn’t like Ra’s, doesn’t actually want to sleep with him, even if Ra’s used to be a dragon tamer of sorts before The Pit took that away from him - even if he still knows exactly how to smooth talk a dragon after The Pit.

Tim’s only half-dragon, however, so he can still reign himself in well enough - hopefully.

But, before Tim can say anything, someone barrels into the bar, bringing with him that distinct, derelict smell of gasoline and smoke that sometimes sticks to Tim’s hair the day after like well-worn good morning kisses.

Tim turns, and there’s Jason in all his leathered glory.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jason says, and it comes out as a rumble that hits Tim much closer than Ra’s’ croons ever could. The dragon stirs, too, at the encroaching heat. It’s also plenty pleased with Jason, which is great because now it doesn’t spend so much time trying to convince Tim that Ra’s isn’t all that bad, really. Ra’s certainly likes Tim quite a bit and has never been less than cordial, so he _probably_ wouldn’t do anything too horrible, the dragon likes to say.

Jason, on the other hand, hasn’t always been the nicest to Tim. He had been quite volatile after his own dip in The Pit, and Tim still has the scar across his left side to prove it; it’s jagged and ugly because the cut had been dirty, and Cassie had been the one to stitch it up the best she could because Tim didn’t know how to show it to Alfred - didn’t know how to tell him that Jason was back but not there anymore, not really.

And Jason still has the half-severed bond to prove it. It hurts, Tim is sure.

Now, though, Jason’s quite amicable and arguably good company when Tim’s in the mood for him. He’s also trustworthy, in his own way, and not a madman who continuously bathes in soul magic to keep himself alive. That’s always a plus in Tim’s  
mind.

As a result, Tim greatly prefers Jason, in the end. He quickly saddles himself up besides Jason and feels the heat leap, unabashed, from his skin. Jason looks down at Tim, glances over at Ra’s, then back at Tim with a smile. Tim smiles back, and there’s something akin to a pact between them.

Though not really because Jason’s already bound to Bruce, and so is Tim.

“It’s a nice place,” Tim finally responds. Jason is hot. He burns, but it’s nice against the dragon’s cold. “At least, it usually is. Tonight’s a bit disappointing.”

“Yeah, I can see why,” Jason says.

Ra’s doesn’t get offended because he’s above petty displays of emotion like that. Instead, he smiles a bit sharper and regards Jason with amused disdain.

“Jason,” Ra’s says. “It’s been quite some time. You still have that stench on you, I see.”

“And whose fault is that?” Jason demands. Unsurprisingly, he already gearing up for a fight. Ra’s meets him coolly.

Finally, Kon steps back into the fray. “Hey, if you’re gonna fight, go and take it outside.”

They pause. Tim watches, and he almost wants for something ridiculous to happen just so he has a story to tell tomorrow.

Mostly, though, he’s ready to head out and just sleep the night off before finding someone more to his tastes the next evening.

Fortunately, something goes right.

Ra’s breaks the silence. “My apologies. My intention here wasn’t to stir up trouble.”

For once, Tim adds to himself.

Ra’s turns to Tim as if he heard him. “I just wanted to speak with Timothy.”

“Well, you certainly spoke,” Tim says.

“Yes, I suppose I did. Hopefully we’ll get to have a deeper discussion the next time we meet.”

Jason snorts. “Be more obvious, why don’t you?”

Ra’s sneers before leaving as abruptly as he had arrived. Tim’s glad, Kon lets out a sigh of relief, and Jason is smirking with satisfaction, as usual.

With the flourish of Ra’s robes, Tim downs the rest of his drink and demands that Kon make him another one. Kon, instead, goes straight for the shot glasses.

“Rough night, huh?” Jason asks. He lays down money for his own drink, and Tim already knows what he’s getting - a cosmopolitan with extra lime juice. He knows because he’s made a few of them for Jason before when the feel is nicer, topped with a rim of sugar because Jason has a hidden sweet-tooth that Tim doesn’t mind indulging.

Tim shrugs. Jason’s close, so Tim brushes up against him slightly, and Jason is hot. It is that time of the month, Tim supposes. “It could’ve been worse.”

“Worse if I hadn’t showed up.”

Tim doesn’t deny it because that’s probably true. He just downs his shot and purses his lips to keep the vodka down.

“Either way, I’m probably going to head out soon,” Tim says.

“So soon, baby bird?” Jason asks. “But I just got here.”

“Should’ve gotten here sooner. I do have to be somewhat presentable for that gala tomorrow,” Tim says, “which _we_ have to be at.”

Jason’s smirk doesn’t falter. Apparently, he had actually planned to be around this time. “It’s in the evening. We have all day tomorrow to get ready for it.”

“Yeah, well, some of us are a bit ‘worn’, and the new moon doesn’t do it for all of us.”

This time, Jason flashes teeth. They’re white and almost blinding, but they’re pitiable compared to the glow of Jason’s eyes. Blue with a hint of that bright, bright green of The Pit. The dim lights frame the tuft of white on Jason’s bangs nicely, and, this time, the succubus part of Tim is charmed and needy.

On the other hand, Tim himself is tired.

He also knows exactly how the night will probably end.

So, he leaves, waving an absent-minded farewell over his shoulders, only slightly unstable. Jason follows him through the bar, his own drink in hand. The eyes don’t ever leave Tim, but they don’t linger for as long because now they have to watch for Jason. Tim appreciates it, though, and he hops into the cab easily with a nod and little care in the world.

“Have fun,” Tim says. “The new moon is all yours.”

“It’s not that exciting,” Jason says. He leans into the cab a hair, and his bulk takes up the entirety of the car door. He smells strong and undeniably present. Wordlessly, Tim leans in return, and Jason says nothing about it. “Especially when there’s nothing to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

As usual, Tim is right.

He’s also trying his damn best to fall asleep. As much as he loathes to admit it, he really is at the end of his rope. It’s crude, but he needs to be fucked soon, preferably now. Swaddled in his blankets, ridiculously expensive and a pleasure he’d never be guilty of, Tim considers just going out and finding the nearest halfway-decent man to drag into bed because everyone needs to make the occasional poor decision.

Except, before he can, Jason comes crashing through Tim’s wards a few hours later. He’s only slightly bloody, Tim notes, and he smells strong and feels so good.

There’s the crackle of lit embers somewhere nearby, and it burns almost as brightly as Jason’s gaze.

As soon as he spots Tim, Jason shucks off his gaudy red helmet so he can stand before Tim in all his unfairly attractive glory.

“And you thought tonight would be boring,” Tim deadpans. He sits up, and Jason moves forward. He looks even bigger now within the confines of Tim’s bedroom, but that just makes him look all the better. “What did you get into today?”

“Found some pimps trying to sell a few underage kids on the street,” Jason growls. He rests a knee onto Tim’s bed, uninvited, but Tim doesn’t mind. “Decided to give them a nice lecture on how child sex trafficking is wrong.”

“I hope it was a good lecture.”

“It was wonderful.” Jason’s other leg sinks into the bed. “I was very nice and even escorted them to the police afterwards.”

“Oh, that is wonderful,” Tim hums. “I expected worse from you.”

“And risk having Bruce hounding my ass about it? No thanks.”

Tim laughs, and he, too, moves. He pushes his blankets off of himself and inches closer to Jason and his scent, even more ash-ridden than before.

Jason’s whole body is on the bed now, and it dips further under the weight that Tim will probably never have.

“You really do look bad,” Jason says.

“Thanks,” Tim snorts.

“I can’t believe that you’d ever have trouble finding someone to fuck you,” Jason continues, as if he hadn’t heard Tim speak. He’s so close now, and Tim’s body thrums with anticipation.

“I’m not going to settle for just anyone, you know,” Tim whispers.

Jason raises an eyebrow, and the smirk smeared across his face is nothing short of sinful. “Yet you’d let someone like me in your bed?”

“There are plenty worse out there, I think.”

“I think you’re ridiculous. Maybe naive, even.”

“But you’re still here.”

“Of course I am,” Jason breathes. “I can’t turn an opportunity like this down just because you’re dumb.”

Tim furrows his brows with displeasure, but he doesn’t draw away. “Maybe you really aren’t a cut above the rest after all.”

“Too late,” Jason says. His tone is borderline menacing, but the splitting grin rimmed with teeth inching across his handsome face gives him away. “I’m already here.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.”

Jason is mucking up Tim’s nice sheets with his dirty clothes - and Tim thinks he even spots some blood on there somewhere - but Tim’s too needy to care much. There’s always dry cleaning, and the best places don’t ask questions.

Still, Tim can’t let Jason ruin his things too much. Doing so will make him look soft, far too bendable to the whims of horny wraiths under the new moon, and that’s never a good look for a wealthy succumbs socialite like him.

So, he grabs ahold of Jason’s jacket, feels the leather and grime underneath his freshly-cut fingernails, and pushes and pulls. Tim divests Jason of his jacket off before pulling his shirt up and over. Jason tilts his body off the bed so Tim can easier fumble with his pants to tug them away, too, and Jason smells even more smoke, burning, and musk without his clothes.

Jason sits before Tim, hard and naked, and is kind enough to let Tim just sit back and admire all his angular lines and curved muscles before he starts pawing away at Tim clothes. It’s much easier for him, seeing as Tim’s only dressed in a pair of boxers, but Jason turns it into a huge display nonetheless; his fingers linger and dig into Tim’s hipbones with a mouthwatering drag of blunt, uneven nails as he slowly drags Tim’s boxers down. Then, he runs his big, long fingers all over Tim’s thighs, and Tim shivers with anticipation.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” Jason breathes. His hands splay up and over Tim’s thighs for a spell longer before he swipes them back up to grip at Tim’s sides. “You’re always pretty.”

“Did you learn those lines from Dick?”

“I don’t need to learn how to tell the truth,” Jason quips.

Tim does not flush at that, he tells himself.

He doesn’t flush, and he isn’t taken aback in the slightest. Instead, he is completely in control like the half-succubus he is is supposed to be. To prove it, he pushes Jason down flat on the bed, even if he doesn’t so much as push as he does urge Jason down because Jason is a brick wall that isn’t easily moved against his will.

Thankfully, Jason is more than happy to let Tim push and prod him as he pleases, resting his hands back on Tim’s hips after Tim positions himself just right.

“You’re even prettier like this,” Jason whispers. “On top of me, looking down at me with those big, baby blue eyes of yours.”

“Now you’re just starting to make me nervous,” Tim says. “I’m not used to you being so nice.”

“Come on, when have I ever been mean to you?”

Tim glares down with all the cold fury he can manage, and he’s certain his pupils are slit tight with indignation. Belatedly, Jason realizes the ridiculous error of his ways in time with the reminder of just how much of a menace he had been after The Pit.

“Ok, when have I ever been mean to you while having sex?” Jason amends.

“I suppose our first time was pretty rough.”

“It’s good that we’ve gotten past our first time, then, huh?” Jason’s grip tightens, and Tim swallows down the preemptive moan that threatens to escape. “But, if you want, I can still be rough.”

Tim considers it before replying. “I think I’m a bit too tired for that today, unfortunately.” He adds a slow roll of his hips to make up for it, though, and drinks in Jason’s hissed groan as his dick leaks pre-cum from Tim’s ministrations.

“That’s fine. I’m more than happy with whatever you’ll give me,” Jason replies, and Tim’s glad to hear that he really means it.

As such, Tim gives Jason a bottle of lube - an almost empty one that Jason has used several times before. He pulls his hands away to lube his fingers up, and Tim’s glad that Jason runs so hot because otherwise he might miss them too much. Then, he silently urges for Tim to get off of him and onto his back, which Tim begrudgingly complies with. As recompense, Jason leans down to tease at the head of Tim’s cock with a few quick licks and short kisses, and all is forgiven.

Because Jason is nothing if not a good lover.

It’s why Tim doesn’t have many qualms with having Jason in his bed, even if Dick keeps begging Tim to hook up with someone else because Jason’s good, he’s a good guy, for sure, but he’s _Jason_.

Except Tim knows that Jason’s way more than just good.

He’s absolutely amazing as he presses a slick finger inside Tim’s opening, crooked just right. Tim moans and whimpers at the feeling, pleased but already desperate for more. Jason, as always, is quick to catch on, so he goes ahead and adds another finger and aims straight for Tim’s prostate.

Tim’s moans with delight, and the dragon growls with impatience, but the succubus in him is melting with joy.

“Looks like you really did need this,” Jason says. He floats his free hand up to Tim’s abdomen, idly running roughened hands over Tim’s stomach before moving upwards to tease of Tim’s nipple; Tim leans into the touch, and Jason pushes down harder to meet him. “I don’t know why you waited this long.”

“There just wasn’t anyone I was interested in for these past few weeks,” Tim says, slightly clipped and breathless when Jason adds a third finger.

He doesn’t mention that Jason has been gone for the past few weeks, off hunting a few dark sorcerers off in Siberia. Jason doesn’t, either, and that’s just one more reason why Tim doesn’t mind sleeping with Jason.

Jason’s fingers continue to curl and scissor in all the right ways, and Tim does enjoy all the attention, truly. At the same time, he’s beyond hungry for more, so Tim impatiently wiggles and sits up to place a firm hand on Jason’s wrist.

“Come on, I’m ready now.”

Jason cocks his head to the side. “Are you sure? You did say that it’s been weeks since you last had sex, so I gotta really get you nice and ready.” He smirks. “Don’t want to tear up that perky ass of yours.”

“You might be overestimating yourself,” Tim says blandly, even though he knows that Jason is, quite frankly, large.

And, as much as he hates to admit it, all that extensive prep really had been worth it.

Jason pushes in slow and careful, watchful of Tim’s face even when his own expression is akin to a hound waiting patiently, yet so eagerly, for the ok to swallow down his favorite meal whole. Jason’s eyes are all but green, and they pierce through the dim lighting with a manic energy that Tim can’t shy away from.

It should be intimidating, but Tim finds himself mostly endeared and gratified to see that he even has an effect on someone as wickedly handsome as Jason.

Not to mention, he’s so, so glad to finally have someone inside him like he so terribly needed.

When Jason is finally inside Tim to the hilt, crotch pressed up against Tim’s ass with promise, he pauses. Whether it’s to let Tim adjust or just to tease, Tim isn’t sure. Either way, it’s horrible but also immensely wonderful, and Tim squirms, trapped under Jason’s firm hand over his collarbones. Jason smiles and watches Tim want him.

And it works.

“Jason, come on,” and Tim is not whining as he says this, of course not. He’s just a bit short-of-breath, is all. “What are you waiting for?”

“I just wanted to give you a chance to get used to it,” Jason replies. His posture is calm in spite of the insistent press of his dick inside of Tim.

“You really think I haven’t had anything up my ass over the past four weeks?” Tim asks.

“Oh? You have a collection of sex toys somewhere you’ve never shown me?”

“Why would I show you? They’re not anything meant for couples play.”

“Still, I’d like to see them.” Jason pushes his dick in the tiniest bit deeper, and Tim arches up into it like a reflex. “I think we could still have fun with them, even if they’re only meant for a single person.”

“Start moving and maybe I’ll think about it.”

With that, Jason moves. He pulls out slowly, lets Tim feel every inch of him move and push against Tim’s walls, and Tim is now actually a bit glad for the break because Jason feels even bigger than he looks. Tim feels him so well, but he loves and claws at Jason’s back for the stretch, so all’s well and every part of him is quickly careening towards sun-kissed satisfaction.

“How’s that?” Jason asks. He sounds out-of-breath, and his arms strain around Tim.

Tim smiles and smooths his hands down from Jason’s shoulder blades to his wrists to feel the flex of muscle. “It’s good. So, so good.”

“Just for you, pretty bird.”

Jason snaps his hips forward with a vengeance, and Tim locks his legs as firm as he can around Jason’s massive bulk because he needs to be fucked just like this, and he needs he heat and Jason’s scent - anything else Jason will give him because Tim has been waiting and suffering for this for _so_ long.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Tim groans, pushing back against Jason’s thrusts as best as he can after Jason presses down on him. Jason’s heavy, but Tim likes being weighed down so nicely. “Just like that, God, just like that.”

Jason obliges with another quick thrust that had Tim sliding up the bed quite roughly, but Tim is in love with how the sheets beneath him bunch and slide against him. Jason gives Tim exactly what he wants and more, from the way he teases Tim’s nipples, and then how he runs a calloused thumb up and over Tim’s cock, neglected and dripping as it begs for attention.

He also makes sure to pay plenty of attention to Tim’s neck when Tim throws his head back from a particularly delightful thrust aimed right at his prostate. Jason licks, bites, and sucks with vigor in-between all the sweet words he paints over Tim’s sweat-soaked skin.

“You look so good like this,” Jason splays with his teeth. “Under me, all flushed and begging for more, and you don’t even know. You don’t even know what you’re capable of looking like, do you?”

“Maybe you should show me one day,” Tim narrowly manages to get out between heady gasps.

“Now that’s an idea.”

And Tim is sure that he looks good like this because that’s half the point of being a succubus. At the same time, he doesn’t really want to stay like this.

So, he wriggles his way out from underneath Jason’s hulking frame as best as he can until Jason finally lets him go, sitting back and letting Tim shimmy his way out. Jason stares on with both confusion and anticipation and lets himself be pushed back down onto the bed for a second time that night with nary a complaint.

“I want to ride you,” Tim explains, simple as that.

Jason replies with an equally simple, “Ok” and a smirk.

Jason doesn’t actually haul Tim onto his lap, but his hands still linger hot on Tim’s hip, and Tim doesn’t mind that at all because it’s nice against the cool of his own skin. For a moment, Jason runs his fingers over the scar left behind. He doesn’t say anything about it, though, and Tim is perfectly fine with that  

Tim sinks down, slowly at first. Then, as soon as the head of Jason’s dick is inside him, Tim pulses down with a snap and relishes in Jason’s toothy groan for a second before lifting himself back up again and repeating.

“Still think I look pretty like this?” Tim asks.

“Fuck yes,” Jason gusts. “Didn’t I already tell you that you’re always pretty?”

“I guess you did.”

With each sink and thrust, Tim feels more and more like a real person, as opposed to the emptied husk of a creature he was mere hours ago. He even feels giddy from it because Jason is so powerful and so full of heat and vitality, like he’s always been - a warehouse of energy and life that never fails to leave Tim’s eyes rolling up in the back of his head.

Soon enough, Tim’s close. He’s almost embarrassingly close, and his thighs are starting to shake too intensely for him to steady himself as he bounces on Jason’s dick. Right on cue, Jason sits up against the headboard and pulls Tim close as he thrusts upwards with abandon.

“Jason,” Tim mewls because it’s impossible to think of anything else, “please, Jason - Jay, give me _more_.” He fists his hair into Jason’s hair to drag Jason into a sloppy kiss. There’s a bit of teeth, and Tim can taste a bit of blood when Jason bites down at his lips, but that’s just the cherry on top.

“That’s it, pretty bird,” Jason whispers, pulling away to mouth at the bottom of Tim’s chin. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

And, as a man of his word,  Jason does just that.

He wraps a rough hand around Tim’s cock, pumps hard, and Tim is coming in no time. Tim clings to Jason as his mind goes blank with pleasure and the sudden crush of sweet, sweet vitality that floods through him so frantically that Tim’s almost afraid that he’ll simply fall apart from the force of it all.

The only thing that keeps him grounded and assured that he’s alive is the feeling and smell of Jason underneath his touch - solid, sturdy, and smoky. Tim buries his face in the crook of Jason’s neck as he rides out one of the best and longest orgasms of his life and doesn’t even get offended when he feels Jason chuckling.

Faintly, he feels Jason’s tumbling laugh turn into the low rumble of a moan, and then Jason is coming. He comes deep inside Tim with a sharp grunt buried inside Tim’s hair, and Tim’s toes curl at the heat rushing inside - the succubus part of him drinks it up eagerly, the dragon side appreciates the uncontainable sparks of power that roll off of Jason, and Tim just feels so fucking sated.

Eventually, the high fades and Tim’s grip slackens. He’s both invigorated and exhausted, but, most importantly, he’s immensely satisfied and ready for a scratch under his neck as he purrs and curls up for bed.

Jason laughs again. “Looks like you really needed that, huh?”

“I need a shower, too,” Tim says. He glances over at Jason, racks his eyes over Jason’s body, enviably muscular and riddled with scars, and sighs. “So do you.”

“Wanna take one together?”

Tim nods. It’s late, and he wants to sleep sooner than later, preferably with a big, hot chunk of a person beside him.

They shower quickly, even though Jason insists on cleaning Tim on his behalf; he washes Tim’s hair, soaps him up, and even helps wash his cum out of Tim’s ass with care. In fact, he’s so careful that Tim all but falls asleep under right there. Jason hurries his pace, gives himself a quick scrub down, and then ushers Tim out of the shower and into bed.

“Someone’s being especially nice today,” Tim says. He wants to say it with a sprinkle of an accusation, but his bed sucks all of that out of him with ease.

Jason just shrugs and slinks in right beside Tim with a familiarity that should probably be concerning. “Hey, I may be a shitty person sometimes, but I’m never shitty when it comes to sex.”

Tim rolls his eyes but stays silent because it’s true. Jason’s still awake - Tim can tell from the small rivulets of tension that occasionally rake through Jason’s limbs - but Tim’s too tired and buzzed with much needed power to try and match it. Within minutes, Tim’s fast to fall asleep.

Faintly, he thinks he feels Jason shift closer in the few moments before, and he wonders if Jason will still be there in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think :)
> 
> if you want to talk to me or want to know more about how you can support me, you can find me on [tumblr](https://fever-d-dreams.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully not too boring of a chapter?

When Tim wakes up, he feels hot, even more so than usual underneath his three down blankets. He’s also weighed down more than usual and hardly moves at all when he tries to squirm his way closer to the middle of the bed.

Strange.

Then, Tim turns on his side and sees that Jason’s still there, and he’s wrapped around Tim like one of those new-fangled body pillows Bart likes so much. That explains a lot.

Jason doesn’t always leave before Tim wakes up during the morning after, so it’s not like this is some breathtakingly rare occurrence that Tim needs to latch onto for as long as it lasts. On the other hand, it is pretty rare for Tim to wake up before Jason. Most of the time, Jason wakes up long before Tim because Tim loves sleeping in after a nice fuck, and Jason never fails to deliver.

So, Tim doesn’t usually get to see Jason like this - fast asleep and somewhat at ease - and he figures that it’s fine for him to just lay there for awhile and watch Jason sleep because that’s not weird at all.

Or, it’s a bit weird, but Tim considers it relatively mundane compared to a lot of the other things their Coven has done. For example, Dick still sometimes takes secret pictures of Tim for the sake of his own weird memory scrapbook, even now even though he has Damian to coo over. With that in mind, Tim thinks he’s relatively normal as he stares down at Jason’s face, and most of his moral judgements these days are based on relativity.

As he sleeps, Jason looks younger than usual.

He looks his age for once.

The wrinkle in his forehead and the deep-seated ones between his eyes are still there, but they aren’t etched nearly as harshly as they are when Jason’s awake. Now, they’re smoothed down into the best expression a half-dead man could possibly be, and it’s kinda nice; Jason wouldn’t be Jason without those premature wrinkles, but it still makes him look better when they’re not as intense.

Jason, in general, looks less intense when he sleeps, and Tim doesn’t think it’s a bad look at all.

Then, Jason stirs awake, and Tim pretends that he hadn't been looking just now because that's a conversation for another, never day.

“What time is it?” Jason asks, blinking away his sleep, face already re-creased. His eyes are also back to mostly blue, and they’re bright under the low-filtered sunlight.

“Just after ten,” Tim responds. “So not that late.”

“Surprised to see you still in bed at this hour.”

“I could say the same for you.”

Jason sighs. “The past few weeks have been tough for me, too. Those warlocks gave me more trouble than I’d have liked.”

“Oh?”

Tim shifts and tosses his legs over the side of the bed because it’s weird, just laying around with Jason like it’s normal. “Babs said there wasn’t anything too notable about the mission.”

“That’s because we lost communication with her after the first week,” Jason grumbles, “and, right after that, everything went to shit. Roy nearly died, and Kori had one of her horns snapped off.”

Tim frowns. “Is she alright?”

“Oh, yeah. We were able to get it back before they sold it or ground it down for whatever illegal brews they're making these days, and I guess she has the power to put broken horns back together.” Jason turns to look at Tim as he stands by the bed. “By the way, you look much better today. Now the tabloids won’t have anything to say about how horrible you looked at tonight's gala.”

“As if a good face of makeup couldn’t do that too,” Tim scoffs. He steps closer to the bathroom but doesn’t enter just yet.

“You could just say thank you.”

“Thanks for fucking the life back into me,” Tim says coolly.

“That’s more like it,” Jason says, and he’s smirking. All’s mostly normal, it seems.

With that, Tim finally enters his bathroom, and he finds that he really does look better. He looks normal now, equipped with smooth, slightly plump and flushed skin, a pouted mouth, and eyes that gleam with a vengeance. His dragon’s eye is all ready and recharged, thanks to Jason, and it’s nice to be able to see things as clearly as before. Not to mention, he hardly has to do any primping now to make himself look as nice as he likes. All for the best, seeing as he’s quickly running out of his favorite tinted moisturizer.

“Took you long enough,” Jason calls out when Tim returns. “I thought you’d be in there all day, gussying yourself up.”

“As if I need to make myself even prettier than I already am,” Tim says, nose turned up in a way that he know highlights his jaw nicely.

And, as he had expected, Jason follows the line of his long, bared neck up to linger on Tim’s mouth for a second before settling his eyes upon Tim’s.

Tim smiles, and Jason returns it with something a bit toothier and a lot darker.

“No,” Jason eventually says. He draws the word out long and lets this own mouth curl around the syllable until it looks like a wicked promise that shouldn’t affect Tim as much as it does because Tim’s the half-succubus here, surprisingly. “I guess you don’t, pretty bird.”

Tim breathes in deep and tries his best to hide it because Jason had been a Seeker before he had died, but now, as a wraith, Jason’s even more of a hound.

Relentless, but loyal once you drag the crazy out of him.

“Anyway,” Jason continues, and Tim is glad, “What are your plans for today? I got the impression that you were planning on doing something before the gala.”

“I was just going to get some brunch with Cass and meeting up with Vale afterwards. Hopefully I can feed her some choice information before she starts coming up with her own answers.”

“Great idea,” Jason says. “Or, it would be if you could actually do anything about Vale.”

“It never hurts to try, and none of the rest of you know how to talk to normal people at all. So, it’s up to me.”

Jason scoffs. “Well, can’t argue with you there. I’m no use when it comes to sweet-talking people outside of the bedroom.”

“It’s just a shame that she’s too good for you, huh?” Tim teases.

Jason shrugs and stares at Tim with that hound dog stare of his. “I think I’m doing pretty fine regardless. I managed to convince you to sleep with me, didn't I?”

Tim can’t decide whether he wants to preen or roll his eyes, so he just goes ahead and does both. “And you said you’re not good at sweet-talking.”

“We’re still in your bedroom,” Jason counters.

“Don’t be a smart ass too."

Jason simply smiles before sitting up to better gaze upon Tim as he gets dressed, or something like that. The blankets slip and pool around him, giving Tim an, admittedly, excellent view of Jason’s toned abs and arms, both littered with the scars that were too old and too deep for The Pit to erase.

They don’t look bad, though. In fact, Tim thinks they give Jason character, and some of them feel nice under his fingertips when he’s running his hands over Jason’s skin.

So, he doesn’t really mind them at all.

Jason, too, doesn’t seem to mind, based on the way he not-so-subtly stretches and flexes upon the realization that Tim’s looking.

“You heading out soon?” Jason asks after Tim's dressed.

Tim hums out a small yes.

“I’ll get out of your way, then.” Jason pushes himself out of the bed, and Tim gets a glimpse of even more skin. It’s nothing that he hasn’t seen several times before in several different positions, but it’s still a nice treat, watching the way Jason’s muscles contract as he moves.

“You don’t have to leave just yet if you don’t want to,” Tim says suddenly, yet belatedly because Jason’s legs are already thrown over the side of the bed. “I’m sure you know how to properly lock up the wards behind you.”

“It’s fine. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Jason dresses quickly, all while making sure that Tim gets a front-row view of the large expanse of his back. Tim does his best to look unimpressed, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Jason tosses over his shoulder as he reaches the door.

“I’ll see you again tonight,” Tim replies. “Right?”

“Yup. Had to come to this one, or else Alfred was going to stop making me those pies I like so much.”

“And here I thought you were coming because I had asked you to," Tim says.

He’s met with silence. Jason looks at him, maybe smiling, maybe just licking his teeth because he still hasn’t brushed them yet even though there’s a spare toothbrush just for him in the bathroom.

Maybe he's wondering if it's time to go in for the kill.

Then, Jason steps forward, and Tim watches him move. Jason remains silent, but he comes closer and stares down at Tim. Usually, Jason doesn't have a particularly impressive poker face; at least, Jason usually doesn’t bother hiding most things from Tim because it’s not like he won’t be able to figure it out eventually.

Now, however, Jason’s expression is mostly unreadable, and Tim thinks perhaps he should be more concerned, except now Jason is kissing at the side of his mouth, and Tim is embarrassingly distracted by it.

“I guess you’re right,” Jason breathes. He still has morning breath, but Tim overlooks it for now because Jason’s bedhead is cute. “Try not to be too much of a maneater at the gala tonight.”

“We’ll see.”

Jason leaves soon after a quick brush of his teeth with his toothbrush that they don’t bring attention to. Before Tim leaves a bit later, he does primp, but just a bit. Vicki Vale is a tough cookie to crack, but it’s slightly easier when he looks pretty.

Cass has a few things to say about his look.

“You look good,” she says bluntly as Tim sits down. “Much better than before.”

Tim gives a small thanks as he looks over the menu. He’s in the mood for the Eggs Benedict, except the hollandaise sauce isn’t good for his figure; he’s not a powerhouse like Dick or Jason who burn calories just by breathing, unfortunately.

“Was it Jason?”

Tim chokes on his water, looks up. Cassandra looks back benignly because she doesn’t mean anything by it except for exactly what she says. That’s what Tim likes about Cass, most of the time, and what sets her apart from most kitsune, but now it makes him feel oddly flustered.

“Why do you ask?”

Cass shrugs. “You usually only look this good when it’s Jason. And Barbara told me so - that you two were together last night.”

Of course Babs did. She loves to snoop. It’s her job, also her hobby, and she’s excellent at it.

“I guess you already know the answer to that, then,” Tim answers, and he decides to go for the Eggs Benedict, diet be damned, because he apparently looks good now, thanks to Jason, so he figures he can afford to indulge a bit. Either way, he deserves it.

Thankfully, the rest of their brunch goes by without anymore straight-shot curveballs as Cass details her latest mission, so Tim can enjoy his eggs in peace.

“A lot of the major black market dealers are moving their base of operations from Hong Kong elsewhere,” she says, spearing at her own plate of pancakes. “It’s hard to take down larger, more organized groups because they just aren’t around anymore.”

“Isn’t that just because you’ve been doing so well hunting them down?” Tim asks.

She shakes her head and sighs. “If only if were that simple. One of them almost cut off one of my tails, so I don’t think they’d be scared off so easily. No, I’m sure they’ve simply gone elsewhere. Barbara agrees.”

“Siberia, perhaps? Jason mentioned encountering a few of them up there.”

“Perhaps,” Cass mutters. “Perhaps I should pay Siberia a visit soon.”

“Or maybe you should stay in Hong Kong,” Tim says. “It’s not like they need you any less. Besides, I know you like it there.”

"Yes. I guess I do."

Cassandra smiles as she plops another chunk of pancake into her mouth, and Tim thinks he almost sees a flicker of one of her tails waving at him. As beautiful as she always is, Cassandra is most beautiful when she smiles like this.

Second most beautiful is when she fights, but they’re safe and free to just talk for now, and Tim enjoys the chance for as long as he can.

Tim’s next meet-up is not as relaxing.

He sits in front of Vicki Vale, who offers to buy him a few drinks with her own kind of smile.

“No, but thank you for the generous offer,” Tim says. “I’m saving the empty calories for the gala later tonight. Not to mention, I’m sure the drink options there will be much more appealing than the ones here.”

Vale’s smile doesn’t budge, but Tim thinks he sees a hint of teeth somewhere in there.

“I suppose you’re right,” she finally says. “It doesn’t do well for a succubus to let themselves go. You’d lose your appeal, and then you’d be left with not much else, yes? And that’d be such a shame now that you look far better than you have in weeks.”

“I can’t say much against that, now can I?” Tim says. Her words sting, but at least it means Vale still hasn’t caught onto his dragon heritage. He hopes.

“It’s a good thing that the black market isn’t particularly interested in succubi, isn’t it?” Vale continues, like a wave come crashing down with her insistence. Tim braces himself and waits for the tread. “Though, I have heard talk that succubi blood is becoming more popular for love potions.”

“Ms. Vale, please,” Tim says. “Everyone knows love potions don’t work.”

“ _Lust_ potions, then,” she corrects. “Those tend to work quite well, to my knowledge.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m Bruce Wayne’s son, isn’t it? With all the security detail and all.”

“I’m not so sure that’ll be much help anymore,” Vale muses. “I’ve heard that the hunters are starting to target even high-profile creatures. Just the other day, a Russian billionaire’s daughter was found stripped of her wings.” She pauses. “But I’m sure you’re already aware of that and all the other cases that have started popping up.”

She’s referring to Bruce’s extensive intelligence network, but she’s doing it poorly. It’s unlike her, but Tim's grateful for her newfound clumsiness because it makes his job easier.

“Of course I heard about that particular case,” Tim says. “I’d think that a lot of people have. It's not really a secret, with how much of a stink her father made about the whole thing. Russia is so far away from us, though, and I haven’t heard about many similar incidents within the United States.”

A lie.

There have been quite a few, but the hunters here don’t go for the well-known; they target those who will be easily forgotten. Tim knows because he’s seen quite a few of them - _had_ seen more until Bruce took him off the case, claiming that others could handle it better. All because Tim’s dragon’s eye is valuable, and that infuriates Tim, but he just has to bide his time for the best moment to jump back in. Then, all will be well.

Vale’s pretty face scrunches up as she stares him down. “You can’t mean to tell me that you haven’t heard of those Hunting Leagues that are starting to crop up in the States.”

Tim shrugs, and his throat feels suddenly parched. To be frank, he wouldn’t mind a drink right about now, but he knows he can’t always get what he wants because Vale is ruthless and can sniff out weakness better than any bloodhound. “I’m sorry, Ms. Vale. I’ve been too preoccupied with other things to really keep track of all these going on’s.”

He takes a long sip of his coffee for a momentary reprieve. “For example, I’ve been working hard on helping with this charity gala happening tonight, which I thought we were here to talk about.”

Vale’s lip thins, and her untamed magic sparks around her. If she wanted to, she wouldn’t be a half-bad witch, but she’s always been disinterested in honing her magic. It’s a bit of a shame but also a huge blessing because a magic-wielding Vicki Vale would be even more of a pain in the ass.

Finally, they get onto the subject of the charity gala, and Tim’s much more at ease. He regales her with fancy tales of raising money for the disadvantaged children of Gotham, particularly the magical ones who struggle to control their abilities without proper care and guidance. None of it is a lie, and Vale seems to be able to sense as much because she takes extensive notes and doesn’t look overtly offended when Tim goes on and on about it.

Eventually, their time together draws to a close, and Tim hides his sigh of relief as Vale stands up from her seat.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Wayne,” she says, and she’s all nice and diplomatic about it because she’s damn good at her job. “I look forward to hearing about the gala soon. Stay safe.”

“Yes,” Tim says with as much charm as he can muster, "you too.”

With all that out of the way, Tim's determined to not let anything unplanned happen tonight. It’d be a wonderful gift from the universe, having everything run wonderfully smooth.

As one would expect, that doesn’t happen.

The night starts off well. Tim is well-dressed and ready to impress, even though he knows that just about everyone there is already set to hand out quite generous donations. Mostly for the PR, but money is still money, and the kids need it.

Luthor is there, as expected. He has his least offensive smile on, his donation is more than generous, and he seems civil enough.

“Hello, Mr. Luthor. It’s nice to see you here tonight.” Tim extends a lax hand which Luthor meets with a tense grip.

“I’m glad to be here,” Luthor responds lightly. “It’s just a shame that my son couldn’t be here.”

Tim shrugs. “I heard there was a bit of tension with a certain key figure, so he was hesitant to come. If you ask me, it’s a shame that a grown adult has all but intimidated Kon into hiding, but perhaps others think differently.”

Clark’s not actually in the room because he doesn’t have much of a place here as an average reporter from Metropolis, but Tim and Luthor both know that he’s lurking somewhere near on standby.

And Tim hopes Clark is listening loud and clear.

Luthor looks mildly approving of Tim after that, which is too strange for Tim to let lay, so he continues. “Anyway, I was wondering if you felt your wards ripping apart last night at the bar Kon owns.”

Luthor’s burgeoning smile shrivels at the edges before wilting away entirely. “Of course I felt it, and I know that it was because of you.”

“What do you mean? It’s not like I tore through your wards. I don’t need to.”

“No, but the uninvited guest who did was looking for you, was he not?”

“Luthor, please, that’s a dangerous line of reasoning you’ve got there,” Tim hisses. “Blaming me for what happened even though it was all by the efforts of a different person.”

Luthor’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t refute. He instead replies with, “Either way, I suggest you watch out for yourself. The Demon’s Head is not to be taken lightly. You’re only safe because he, for whatever ridiculous reason, is  _intrigued_ by you. In the end, though, that might lead to something quite unfortunate.”

Without another word, Luthor turns and bids Tim a stiff farewell, and Tim wonders why he even invited him over in the first place. Then, he remembers the money and the kids, and even dealing with a pissy Luthor isn't that bad anymore.

After that small spat, Tim has more than a few eyes on him, some less kindhearted than others. Regardless, as a succubus, he can’t help but enjoy the attention he gets from admirers to a certain extent, and he garners the amazingly rapt attention of some attendees. He holds the stem of his glass just so, highlighting the curve of his wrist and long fingers, and it’s almost funny how entranced some people are with just that.

Of course, Dick is there to distract him from all his preening and much-deserved drinks like the good big brother he likes to be.

“Tim,” Dick says from somewhere far away that’s closing in fast, and Tim resists the urge to groan out loud. “How have you been? It’s been forever since we last hung out.”

He’s here now, all silky bulk and heart-watering smile that people just can’t resist, and that’s not fair because Dick doesn’t even have to try to seduce people. He just does by virtue of how kind and approachable he is. Tim knows because he used to be one of those very same starry-eyed victims. Now, Dick is _painfully_ endearing.

Tim makes sure no one’s eavesdropping before sighing. “It’s been two weeks, Dick. We had lunch together two weeks ago.”

“Still way too long,” Dick says, “but at least you look way better than you did last time I saw you.”

Tim isn’t even offended anymore when people implicitly tell him that he had looked like shit up until today because he knows it’s true. That doesn’t mean he exactly appreciates the comments, but it seems like he has no choice but to weather them.

“Thanks,” Tim deadpans. “I’m hoping that my new and improved looks will help me snag a new boy toy. I’m thinking Leonid over there might be a good choice. I don’t remember inviting him here, but that’s fine. He’s handsome and not-so-bright, but that might be perfect for me.”

“Oh, Tim, no,” Dick breathes, and the poor guy really thinks he’s being serious. “Leonid isn’t a bad guy, for the most part, but he’s really not the brightest, sometimes. For all we know, he might accidentally deliver you straight to the doorsteps of these mystery hunters in Russia. He does love his country, you know. Maybe he thinks he’ll be helping by doing so.”

“I don’t think he’s that unaware, and it’s not like we’ll actually be dating or anything.”

“Well, of course not,” Dick clicks, and the snap of his tongue feels definitive. “Because I still think Roy’s good for you. He can be a bit abrasive, sometimes, but that’s his charm, and I think it’ll make him interesting for you.”

“Dick, Bruce would kill us both if I actually started dating Roy. You know he just barely tolerates their Coven.”

“And you think Jason’s any better?”

Tim bites the inside of his cheek to keep his face hatched down. He tastes a trickle of blood and quickly swallows it down before he responds. “I think Jason is fine. At the very least, he’s one of us. He gets us in a way Roy never would.” Tim loosens his own grip over his tongue. “And, like I said, it’s not like I’m dating him.”

Now, Dick’s looking at Tim with something akin to pity. It sends needles up his spine, and Tim’s dragon recoils at being judged so.

Tim, for once, feels the same.

“But don’t you want to settle down and date someone?” Dick asks quietly - sincerely. “Don’t you want to have someone you can be with?”

“I have had partners before. It’s not like I’ve never dated anyone before.”

“Yeah, but that was before you really grew into yourself. You haven’t had a real relationship since becoming an adult. Wouldn’t you like to try it out?”

Deep down inside, Tim gets what Dick’s saying, and he knows that it comes from a place of genuine concern and, dare he say it, _love_. There’s love because Dick is a cupid, and he has a lot of love to give. Tim knows that, but that doesn’t mean he has to agree with it.

So, Tim walks away.

“I’ll think about it.”

He brushes past Dick and feels the lingering love dust crumple into exasperated defeat, but that’s fine because it means that Tim has halfway won for now. Dick will probably bring the whole thing back up the next time they have lunch together, as he usually does, but, for now, Tim’s free.

And then there’s Damian, and Tim's caught up all over again.

“Drake,” Damian snaps, and Tim has to resist to urge to snarl all of his cold rage onto Damian because people aren’t supposed to know that Tim’s part-dragon, and they’re supposed to pretend that they’re nice siblings who love each other the way nice brothers should. It’d be easier to keep up the charade if Damian would properly refer to him as a Wayne, but miracles are hard to come by these days.

“What are you doing?” Damian asks.

“What do you mean? I’m just talking to people. I didn’t think it’d be that surprising, seeing me talking to Dick.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be mingling with our guests?” Damian demands. If he were younger, he'd be stomping his short, little leg on the floor right about now. Except, he’s somewhat of an adult now, so he just sneers. “Isn’t that the whole reason you set this thing up?”

“I have the whole night for that,” Tim sneers back. He can’t help it when it comes to Damian, and he can feel Dick’s disapproval boring into the both of them from where he’s watching and desperately trying to shoot brotherly love dust at them. “But enough about that. What did you want? You don’t usually call out to me for no reason.”

Instead of replying, Damian chooses to glare down at Tim for some time - down because he managed to inherit his parents’ impressive height while Tim got none of his parents’ long proportions. He’s glaring so hard that Tim can practically trace the premature wrinkles through the air, and it’s nice to know that some things simply never change. Of course, Tim would like to not get into these spats with Damian all the time, but he can still tolerate them for now.

Finally, Damian grits out, “Father is looking for you,” before storming off, and there it is: Damian’s ever-lingering reluctance to admit that Tim is also Bruce’s son.

And that is something Tim won’t be able to tolerate for much longer.

Before Tim can reply, Damian’s already stalking off. People part away from him to steer clear of his sheer bulk, also a gift from Bruce, and from sheer instinct because Damian’s quickly growing into his own powers.

The powers that Tim doesn't get because he's not really Bruce's son.

Tim turns to go find Bruce and clear his mind.

It doesn’t take long to find him.

Bruce is being Brucie, hamming it up for the crowd. A good number of the people there, like Kyle, Queen, and even Kent lingering somewhere near the mansion, don’t need the act, but they play along regardless. They’re also the ones who help corral the crowd away from Bruce when Tim approaches, and it’s nerve wracking, even if it shouldn’t be.

Bruce is his father, after all. A son coming to speak to his father is easy stuff. Mundane.

But Bruce is his dad. Even years after the papers had all been signed and filed, the idea is terrifying, but it’s not even a simple idea anymore - it’s a fact.

Bruce has always been tall, but he looks larger-than-life amongst the sea of faces making up the slowly dispersing crowd around him. He watches Tim’s approach with his billionaire smile, and Tim does his best to meet it with one of his own.

“Tim,” Brucie says, big grin and excited eyes fixed on Tim. “It’s nice to see you, my boy. How are you enjoying the gala so far?”

“It’s wonderful, Father. Thank you so much for helping me organize it.”

Bruce claps a hand on Tim’s shoulder. It’s wide and warm and spans across Tim’s entire shoulder, but it’s not as wide or warm as Jason’s.

He shakes that thought away because it’s absolutely horrible to be thinking such things when _Bruce_ stands in front of him.

“Of course, Tim. How could I not help you with something as thoughtful as this?” Bruce’s hand weighs down a bit heavier. “In fact, why don’t we speak a bit more about your future plans for this organization? I haven’t gotten the chance to just sit down and talk with you recently.”

Tim glances to the side. Everyone looks busy with each other, only passing them a few looks here and there. Mostly out of curiosity, it seems, mixed with a hint of voyeuristic wonder at seeing them talking to one another.

There they stand as two Wayne’s, two of the most powerful men in Gotham, and Tim gets it. He completely understands the fascination because he had been that optimistic voyeur himself, once upon a time, so excited to discover that Bruce Wayne was a vampire going around fighting crime.

They are not Tim, however, so there’s nothing to worry about when it comes to their murmurs.

“Are you sure?” Tim asks after his quick sweep is over. “Shouldn’t we be around to help host the event?”

Bruce, too, looks. He meets eyes with Selina, briefly, before tapping something out on the table beside him. A message to Clark. A question. Somehow, Clark responds with what must be an O.K.

Brucie nods. “I always have time for you. Dick and Cassandra have things under control, and Alfred’s always around to help if he needs to.”

He doesn’t mention Stephanie because she’s our patrolling tonight with Barbara and Connor as her backup. He also doesn’t say anything about Damian or Jason even though they’re clearly there, eyeing them from within the crowd, but that’s self-explanatory.

Still, Bruce trusts Dick and Cassandra well enough, and Tim also trusts them, so they turn and slip away from the crowd as quietly as they can when all eyes are on them.

“So,” Tim begins when they’re finally alone, according to whatever Clark or Babs is telling Bruce, “what did you want to talk to me about?”

Bruce turns, and the facade has been completely stripped away. In general, Tim’s more comfortable with Bruce like this, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t make him nervous at all, especially not when Bruce is staring down at him with his own brand of disappointment.

“Tim,” he says, all low rumble that instills fear in evil-doers and all that jazz, “what have I told you about staying away from Ra’s Al Ghul?”

Tim scoffs. “It wasn’t as if I was trying to meet up with him. You know that.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re leaving yourself too vulnerable, going out to these kind of places alone.” Bruce frowns. “You don’t know what he’s planning.”

“Isn’t he just… _interested_ in me?” Tim asks as delicately as he can. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, nonetheless, and Bruce recoils at the thought. “I can’t imagine that Ra’s would actually hurt me, all things considered.”

“I think your definition of being hurt is too narrow.”

Tim blinks. The words are sharper than he had expected.

“I’ll be fine,” he says when he finally gets enough air circulating through him. “I know how to handle Ra’s better than almost everyone, except for you.”

Bruce shakes his head. “No, I think you can handle him far better than I can. That doesn’t mean that I’m not still worried. You know that these hunters are growing more active, and they’re international. I’m sure some of them are plenty aware of your Drake heritage and what that means.”

“You think Ra’s is involved with them?”

“It's hard to say, but I always think it's best to be prudent.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tim says. “I’ll bring Dick along with me next time I go to the bar for backup.”

Bruce’s mouth thins with disapproval, and Tim expects to be lectured on how he just doesn’t get what Bruce is trying to say, but all Bruce does is put his big hand back onto Tim’s shoulder with a half-lit sigh.

“Yeah,” Bruce whispers, “Please do.”

They saunter back into the main room together, masks slipped back on. Bruce’s hand lingers against Tim’s shoulder blade for a bit before he’s sending Tim off with nothing more than a warning hidden in the way he nods, quick and pointed, as if Tim needs it - as if Tim isn’t already tired of Ra’s himself.

Tonight, there will probably be roses or chocolates on his bed, courtesy of one of Ra’s’ elite operatives and the fact that Jason’s scent lingers like nothing else; Tim’s never been easier to track since he started sleeping with Jason, but that’s fine. That just means he has to move a bit more frequently, but that’s nothing terribly new, and Tim isn't ready to kick Jason out of his bed just yet.

If there are roses, Tim will just send them to someone else. Bart will probably enjoy them, in his own way. Maybe he’ll tear them apart while spouting off rose facts because turning them into some cute souvenirs. If there are chocolates, he’ll also give those to Bart because Tim’s already indulged in enough calorie-dense foods for the week.

Either way, Tim doesn’t want anything Ra’s gives him. Not anymore.

On the other hand, Tim’s already tired with this night. Leonid's still there, and he really is quite handsome. It’s a simple handsomeness, too, and Tim's impressed when he spots the flex of muscle and strong line of Leonid’s jaw as their eyes meet.

Leonid tilts his head and takes him in like a dog watching how his new toy works. Sometimes, Tim really does mind being looked at like that. Right now, however, he thinks it might be a nice reprieve, even though Tim’s never slept with Leonid before. To be honest, he’s never even thought about it before, but he considers it now that the chance is in front of him, looking surprisingly nice in that cheap suit of his.

Suddenly, Jason appears to break the reverie.

Tim knows because, while his scent is tamped down now by all the best perfumes money can by, the hand against the back of his neck definitely belongs to Jason because it’s _hot_ and oh-so familiar.

“Hey, stranger,” Jason whispers, and warmth simply radiates off of him like nothing else. “I haven’t seen you all night. Aren’t you supposed to be going around cozying up to everyone as a good host?”

Tim pushes back into the touch, and Leonids brows furrow. He looks even more handsome when he’s displeased, but Tim’s too distracted by Jason to fully appreciate it. “I was before Bruce called me in for a little chat. Now, I’m thinking I might take it easy until the whole thing is over.”

“With Kovar of all people?”

“Why not? I think he’s quite the looker, in a Russian boy-next-door kinda way.”

“You’d never be able to have a proper conversation with him.”

Tim tilts his head up and makes note of the way Leonid traces the long line of his neck through the corner of his eye. “I doubt we’d be doing much talking.”

Jason tosses his head back impatiently, and it’s Tim’s turn to watch the way Jason’s carotid stretches in time with the flicker of Jason's blue-green eyes. “I just think you could do better.”

“And who, exactly,” Tim hums, “do you think would be better?”

Jason smirks, and his hand lowers. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

Leonid snarls and turns away before prowling off. He's accepted his defeat, apparently. A bit prematurely, but Tim won't stop him.

Jason, predictably, looks even more pleased with himself.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. The night is still young, you know,” Tim says with as much casual aloofness he can manage.

In turn, Jason meets him with heated eyes and a quick lick of his lips. “I’ll be waiting, pretty bird,” he says, even if they both know the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think :)
> 
> if you want to talk to me or want to know more about how you can support me, you can find me on [tumblr](https://fever-d-dreams.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, Tim doesn’t leave with Jason.

When the gala is over and the last few stragglers have been finally kicked out of the Wayne mansion, thanks to Alfred’s excellent diplomatic skills, Tim walks away with Dick by his side. Not to sleep with him, of course, because Dick is truly too much of a brother for that.

To put it simply, Dick is tipsy and in need of some attention, and Tim is the person he’s decided to demand it from.

Jason, on the other hand, is long gone. He had left early, bustling away from the scene the moment Bruce looked the other way, much to Alfred’s displeasure, and Tim wishes he could’ve done the same because right now he just wants to be in his own bed, asleep and curled up in his soft blankets.

Except, he’s not.

He’s with Dick in the mansion’s front lawn, being manhandled in the most obtrusive way possible. It’s akin to a nightmare-induced blast from the past, except Tim now is far less agreeable to Dick’s antics than he had been as a young, starry-eyed boy. That doesn’t deter Dick in the slightest, but Tim still tries to.

“Tim,” Dick whines, and Tim wishes all of Dick’s fawning admirers could see him now. Of course, most of them would probably find the whole scene the perfect amount of saccharine sweet, just another testament of how kind and sensitive Dick is, but that’s beside the point; at least one of them would have to be turned off by the display, and that would be satisfying enough. “Tim, why don’t you hang out with me anymore?”

“I do, Dick,” Tim soothes. From the mansion entryway, Alfred and Cass watch them with insultingly apparent amusement. He’d like to see them even attempt handle a drunk, lonely Dick better than this. Of course, they probably could, but that is entirely besides the point. “Like I said before, we just had lunch together two weeks ago.”

“But two weeks is so far away,” Dick argues. He’s clinging onto Tim like a hungry kitten begging for food, but he weighs much more, and Tim, as much as he hates to admit it, isn’t always the best when it comes to heavy-lifting. He usually leaves that to everyone else, but they’re more than content to let him suffer here. “And I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to be with you next! You hardly spoke to me tonight, even after I was so nice and helpful.”

“I’m sorry, but I definitely do not want to date Roy,” Tim says.

“I’ll find you someone else, then!”

Tim holds back his sigh because letting it out will only make Dick even more upset, or frantic, or whatever his tipsy self is feeling. “Dick, I don’t need you to find me a boyfriend. Not right now, at least. I’m too busy for a relationship.”

“That’s just because you haven’t found the right person. If you had someone you really liked, you’d always have time for them. You’d make time.”

Dick pauses to look up at Tim with those infamous puppy-dog eyes of his that even Tim has trouble resisting, and Tim barely manages to right himself when he finds himself falling for them.

Then, Dick says, “Why don’t you make more time for me, Tim?” and the spell is broken.

This time, Tim does sigh, and Dick looks upon him with even bigger eyes.

“If I have lunch with you this Thursday, will you be satisfied?” Tim asks. He even takes the time to rake his fingers through Dick’s hair to better appease him, nails scraping against skin and all.

As he had expected, Dick all but purrs under Tim.

“You promise?” Dick whispers, and maybe he really is cute because Tim just falls for his cupid love charms all over again.

Platonically, of course, but no less affectionate.

“I promise.”

Finally placated, Dick releases his death grip on Tim, and Tim can finally feel the blood returning to his tortured right arm. And, finally, Alfred and Cass come over to where they awkwardly stand on the estate’s lawn so they can help guide an already half-asleep Dick back into the mansion.

“Thank you for your help, Master Timothy,” Alfred says. “It seems that Master Dick has missed you recently.”

“As if he doesn’t actually see me on a regular basis just so he can try to set me up with another one of his friends,” Tim grumbles.

“That’s just because he cares about you,” Alfred says.

“I know, I know.”

“And, if I may, I’d like to add that Master Bruce misses you quite a bit, too, now that it’s obvious you’re not coming back to live in the mansion anytime soon.”

“Did he really think I would?”

“He had hopes,” Alfred says.

Tim sighs. The mansion in front of him still feels like home, in its own way, but it looms. It’s smaller than it should be - than it really is because it’s ridiculously large for no other reason than to be gaudy - when Tim’s inside.

That’s not to say that living alone doesn’t bring with it its own set of headaches a la Ra’s al Ghul’s ‘affections’, but he can’t imagine returning to the manor. Not now, at least, especially not with Damian swarming the place like he owns it.

One day, he probably will own it, assuming Bruce ever manages to die. Tim just hopes that Damian will be less of a brat by then, but he won’t hold his breath, and he’s sure he probably won’t come back to live in the mansion, either.

He doesn’t need it anymore.

So, Tim shrugs as nonchalantly as he can manage, and he watches as Cass effortlessly collects Dick from Alfred’s grasp. Dick struggles briefly, but all Cass has to do is tighten her grip a smidge, and Dick has given up his futile attempts at escape because no one can really escape from Cass.

“I’ll make sure to visit Bruce more often, too. I think there are a few things we have to discuss, anyway,” Tim says when Cass and Dick disappear from his sight. “Though, I’m sure his schedule and not mine will be the deciding factor in that.”

“You can always come visit even if he’s busy,” Alfred says. “I do also miss you, Master Timothy.”

At that, Tim’s cold, ice dragon heart melts so quickly it gives him heartburn. “Of course. I’ll definitely make sure to visit you more often, too.”

“If we have time,” Alfred begins with that sly little smile of his that makes Tim’s dragon heart pulse with nerves, “I can even show you how to make that pie Master Jason loves so much.”

Tim opens his mouth even though he’s not ready to say anything. As expected, nothing comes out except for awkward, empty air and hints of the succubus humming excitedly at the thought of Jason, so he closes his mouth and just lets the silence stretch on.

Tim has never once doubted Alfred. He has never even questioned Alfred’s judgement because Alfred is undoubtedly the most sane and reasonable of them all. Tim figures he’s been forced to patch together that void of rationality after being around them for along.

Except, Tim has never thought about how he would love to go around learning how to bake pies just for Jason. He’s terrible at baking, first of all. It would be a disaster, and he’s sure Alfred’s more than cognizant of that.

But Tim just smiles the best he can and appreciates that Alfred’s cordial enough to not remark on the twitching strain that holds together the corners of Tim’s mouth.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tim lies. The image of him slaving over a pie is laughable, to say the least. “Thanks, Alfred.”

Alfred is still smiling, and it’s equal parts unsettling and comforting, which makes no sense and thus leaves errant tingles floating through Tim’s spine in its wake.

“Of course, Master Timothy.” Alfred dips his head down into a bow. No matter how many times Tim has begged him to not bow for him, because who is he to deserve such treatment, Alfred still bows, and Tim is left to accept it with clenched fists unwilling to take the gratuitous gift presented to him. “Please get home safely.”

Tim nods once before heading off. One of Bruce’s personal chauffeurs is there to drive him home - the one with fae blood somewhere in him, Tim notes. He’s also sure that Clark is also nearby, keeping a vigilant eye on him in an off-base attempt to appease Tim after shunning Kon so thoroughly.

Tim is no more appeased than he had been a few hours ago, but at least he gets home safely.

And, inside his quaint, quiet apartment meant for a single person, is Jason.

“There you are,” Jason calls out from where he’s sprawled across Tim’s suede leather couch, blackened sock resting against the cushions. He’s still in his suit, the nice one Alfred had all but begged Jason to get out of pure desperation, but his tie is loosened, cuffs undone, and hair askew. The whole thing makes him look a bit like someone who’s just been a part of an invigorating makeout session, full of wanton fingers and petting set to kill.

In other words, Jason looks good.

“I thought you were never gonna get here,” Jason continues. There’s a half-empty box of artisanal chocolates beside him. Ra’s’ gift of the week, no doubt. At least now there’s someone to enjoy it, and, if there is some sort of weird lust serum somewhere in there, Ra’s will be in for quite the rude, arrogant, and rowdy surprise.

“Sorry, I got caught up by a drunk, clingy Dick who insisted that I spend more time with him.” Tim slips off his own tie as he speaks, deliberately slow as he admires the silk beneath his fingers. Jason’s eyes follow the slow slide of Tim’s hands with glee.

Jason snorts. “That explains why you’ve been gone so long. I’ve been waiting for over three hours, you know. I was actually beginning to think that maybe you’d gone with Kovar after all.”

“And what would you have done if I had?” Tim hums. He’s moved onto his jacket, pulling it off with one fell swoop. He stretches his arms high and keeps his eyes locked on Jason’s.

Jason licks his lips. “Then I would’ve gone home and wallowed with my hand around my dick while imagining you getting fucked by Russia’s biggest magical sweetheart.”

Tim’s hands stutter, and his jacket slips. Jason smirks as he absentmindedly removes his belt.

“Why not go find yourself someone else to keep you company for the night?” Tim keeps his voice as light as he can, but the succubus is chirping with too much delight for him to completely hide the tremor in his voice.

Jason doesn’t give any signs that he’s noticed anything. All he does is hold Tim’s gaze steadfast, all important and impossible to ignore, as he slides his belt off, and the sound is almost deafening in the silence between them. “Well, just in case Kovar wasn’t as impressive as he looks, I wanted to be around to console you.”

Tim steps forward, and Jason’s discarded belt glints cheekily at him. “Console me with what? Your dick?”

“Or my mouth.” Jason shrugs, chocolates forgotten. “Whichever one you wanted.”

“How about both?”

Jason smiles, sharp and wide, but undeniably handsome. “Anything you want, pretty bird.”

Tim doesn’t move. He doesn’t have to because Jason’s there to bridge the distance between them in two long strides. He’s warm, and Tim knows just how tall Jason is because he’s had Jason stand in front of him like this several times before. And yet, he’s almost always taken aback with just how much Jason towers over him whenever he draws near.

He looks down at Tim all smug, and he crowds Tim over to the nearest wall with ease simply by pushing - insistent - and knowing Tim will follow - expectant. Tim’s breath hitches, and Jason accepts that as an invitation to go in for a kiss.

There’s a hint of teeth, a lot of tongue, but, most of all, there is Jason. It’s all so Jason, hot and heavy, bulky and smooth.

 _Jason_.

The dragon roars at the promise of more power, and the succubus doesn’t need more sex just yet, but it’s no less excited to be here.

“Two nights in one row?” Tim gusts when Jason pushes further against him. The perfume has long worn off, and he smells so familiar now, like rolling thunder of smoke and cinder that chokes Tim down until he can hardly stand. His lungs twist, his nose shrivels, and he’s lightheaded and scrambling.

Surprisingly, it’s nice.

“You’re spoiling me, Jason.”

Jason dips his head down, and his breath tickles Tim’s ear as he unbuttons Tim’s pants. The edges of Tim’s hair flutter, as do his eyelashes. Jason, on front an so close, is too much of a sight to behold without some flutter.

“I’m the one being spoiled.”

Tim bites his cheek and tastes metal, but none of that matters when Jason starts pulling down his pants, painfully slow and undeniable in the way his blunt nails scrape down against Tim’s inner thighs. He glances down and sees red streaks in their wake, and a tiny moan escapes with a leap straight into Jason’s shoulder.

“Let me eat you out?” Jason asks. He’s suddenly being soft, nibbling at Tim’s ear like he’s always been such a sweet boy, and Tim can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah,” Tim whispers. “Ok.”

They don’t head to the couch or the bed. Jason’s too impatient, hyped up on overpriced chocolate and quickly fading alcohol, apparently. Instead, he finishes undressing Tim right there, on the wall in the juncture between Tim’s living room and kitchen.

Tim’s dress shirt comes off with a growl and the bounce of buttons that clatter weakly against the ground. Tim almost wants one to ricochet Jason right in the eye, just for the momentary slap of karma he deserves for ruining yet another one of Tim’s designer shirts, but Jason comes out unscathed and undeterred.

“That was one of my nice shirts,” Tim grumbles. It’s interrupted by a gasp when Jason tweaks his nipples quite vigorously, but Tim’s dick jumps like it hadn’t hurt at all, even though it’s more like the pain had hurt so good.

“I’ll get you a new one,” Jason replies. He’s still fondling Tim’s nipples, now running soothing circles over the nubs, and Tim’s already shaking under the touch - which is, of course, entirely unfair but also very lovely and much needed. “I may not technically be a Wayne, but I still have access to Daddy’s money.”

“Please don’t talk about Bruce while you’re playing with my nipples and getting ready to eat my ass,” Tim huffs. “It’s really bringing the mood down.”

“And yet you’re leaking more than ever.”

Just for that, Tim knees Jason in his lower abdomen, right above his crotch - a little warning kiss. Nothing too serious at all. Jason hardly even flinches, but he does look down at Tim with a devious smile and all-too-pleased tick of his eyebrow.

“Sorry, pretty bird,” Jason says belatedly and not very convincingly. “How about I make it up to you?”

“We’ll see.”

Tim keeps his face as impassive as possible, but Jason isn’t fooled at all. He pulls away from Tim so he can remove the rest of his own clothes in a flurry that screams _want_ and _need_ before lowering himself onto the ground, taking Tim down with him.

Jason lays down and coaxes Tim up until Tim’s ass hovers just above Jason’s face.

“You sure you don’t want to do this somewhere more comfortable?” Tim asks even though his legs are already quivering with desire. “Or that you don’t want me to freshen up a bit first?”

Jason’s grip on Tim’s ass remains firm. He even gives the cheeks a small slap before he responds, and Tim’s dick twitches traitorously at the lingering sting.

“Honestly, I’m not even convinced that you take shits,” Jason says, “with how pristine you’ve managed to keep your image despite being a known succubus, Mr. Wayne.”

Tim scoffs, but he doesn’t pull away when Jason’s breath starts brushing up against his skin. “Well, if you don’t really care, then who am I to care?”

Jason’s breath draws closer until there’s suddenly teeth nibbling playfully at Tim’s ass. “Then bon apetit to me.”

Tim rolls his eyes, but it’s not mocking enough when Jason actually starts licking his ass. Instead, it turns into something distinctly pleased when they roll back in time with Tim’s unsteady moan.

The dragon isn’t completely content with this situation, seeing how it can’t gain any energy like this because what is chaste licking going to accomplish, and the succubus whines for a dick somewhere inside him.

Tim quiets them both so he can enjoy this in peace. He deserves it.

He presses his ass down a bit further, tentative and slow lest he accidentally suffocate Jason with his ass because wouldn’t that be a way to go? Except, despite his efforts to spare Jason a potentially humiliating second death, Jason ignores them as he pulls Tim down so he can get his tongue even farther up Tim’s ass.

Once again, Jason proves that, if nothing else, he’s great in bed, on the floor, over the kitchen countertop, and much more.

Overall, the whole thing is going great. Jason’s always been great at eating Tim out, from his actual technique all the way to his enthusiasm and tendency to really dig in deep. He’s even snaked one of his big and hot hands over to lavish attention to Tim’s balls and cock, and the only thing Tim can think about past his mounting pleasure is how he can’t wait for what else they’ll be doing that night.

Unsurprisingly, none of Tim’s heady fantasies involve ninjas crashing through his wards, and yet, that is exactly what happens.

He feels the first crack like a small, innocuous thing, and he’s not even worried for a split second because he’s too busy moaning out Jason’s name and thinking about Jason’s hand around his dick.

Then, the crack spreads father, and Tim has just enough time to leap out of Jason’s grasp before they fall apart completely.

“Goddamnit!” Jason hisses, jumping up with impressive speed, and Tim has to put himself through great pains to avoid staring at Jason’s thighs as he does so. “Right when we were getting to the good part!”

This is not the first time Tim’s been interrupted during sex. The first time had been during his teenage years, when he had been already hormonal and made to suffer even worse from his succubus’ awakening. The dragon had followed suit shortly after, and Tim had been, understandably, horny and desperate.

And Kon had looked so handsome in that faded leather jacket of his. He was strong, too, with his Kryptonian magic and piercing blue eyes, which made it even easier for him to be one of Tim’s first real objects of affection. Not to mention, Kon had also been eager himself, curious to learn what it meant to have a body that could get hard and crave to have someone to sink into.

So, it was no surprise that they had ended up falling into each other right on a rooftop after all of Tim demanded for more, and had Kon delivered. Even if they were so far removed from that point - partially because getting caught by Batman during their first sexual encounter was simply too traumatizing to keep going for long - Tim still thought about Kon’s cock sometimes.

This isn’t even the first time that sex with Jason has been interrupted. Somehow, Bruce had also been there to witness Tim sinking down on Jason’s dick while Jason was tied up against the wall.

Consensually, of course, but it had led to a massive lecture anyway before Bruce dumped hundreds of condoms at Tim, glaring up and down with an obvious sheen of ‘you shouldn’t be doing this with Jason’ while also saying nothing of merit.

Because, first of all, Tim and Jason had already passed the stage of using condoms at that point. Trust comes slow between the Coven, but once it’s there, it’s there, and they still get routine checks anyway because Tim needs to feel the rush of cum inside him somewhere for any part of him to feel truly satisfied.

It just works better when it’s in his ass.

So, thanks to Bruce, it’s not like Tim’s a stranger to unwanted guests during sex. However, this time it isn’t Bruce, and, this time, they’re throwing ninja stars at Jason like they don’t even care that Tim and Jason are naked.

To be fair, they probably don’t. These are Ra’s’ ninjas, and the members of the League of Assassins are likely trained to not give two shits about their targets being naked.

 _Target_ , actually, seeing as they aren’t actually all that interested in attacking Tim. No, they’re focusing all their efforts on Jason, who’s doing an admirable job of protecting himself with some pans and kitchen knives.

He throws one, hits a ninja right in the shoulder, and Tim bristles.

“Don’t kill any of them! You’re going to get blood all over my new carpets!” Tim exclaims. He picks up his own weapon, one of his cheaper, more expendable kitchen chairs, to use defensively while also shielding his naked body from the assassins; even as a succubus, Tim still appreciates not being naked in front of strangers. “And don’t use your fire magic! You’ll burn the whole place down.”

“I don’t know if you’re in any position to be ordering more around like that,” Jason growls. “I’ll avoid killing them if they stop trying to kill me.”

However, contrary to his words, Jason is astonishingly lenient. The worst he does is batter some of the assailants with Tim’s heavier pots until they drop down, unconscious. Tim, in turn, snaps his chair apart over the head with one of the assailants before scooping up some of the errant chair legs. Carefully, he pours his magic into them until they’re covered in ice - sharp, deadly, and spelled to freeze someone from within just enough to not kill them.

Perfect.

He throws one Jason’s direction and trusts that he’ll catch it with ease. “Don’t use this all willy nilly, ok? And be careful to control your own magic, or you’ll just end up making it dull and less effective.”

“Yeah, I know that already,” Jason growls. “You think I’m fucking dumb or what?”

“One can never be too sure,” Tim responds before shifting to the side. The ninjas don’t follow him, but they do watch him, which makes it easy for Tim to stab one in the leg before sprinting over to his room.

There, he grabs ahold of one of his cell phone, the one Ra’s has called before. He scrolls through his contacts quickly, briefly registers the sound of another body hitting the floor, looks to make sure that it’s not Jason, and then dials.

The phone rings, and he waits and remembers.

Once upon a time, Ra’s had tried to kidnap Tim directly in a bid to win Tim’s affection, or perhaps just keep Tim there long enough for him to just accept his fate by Ra’s’ side. The attempt produced middling results for a few hours before Tim’s dragon had become so enraged at being so thoroughly disrespected that it had almost permanently froze even the Lazarus Pit itself.

In the end, Tim hadn’t managed to get rid of The Pit, but he had managed to freeze plenty of Ra’s’ computers into inoperability. After that, Ra’s had only grown more persistent, though he’s never done something like this before.

Ra’s picks up right as fourth ring dies down.

“Timothy,” he purrs, and Tim can just imagine him sitting on his gaudy throne, self-satisfied smirk smeared across his face like leftover grease. If only he had a cat to help set the scene, but Tim would never trust Ra’s to take care of another living creature like that. “What do I owe the pleasure of this phone call to?”

“Your assassins,” Tim hisses. Jason takes down another one, and now there are only two left. This fiasco will probably end relatively well, but he still has to furniture shopping soon. _Again_. “Call then off.”

“You’re not even going to ask why they’re in your apartment in the first place.”

“How did you get them past my wards?” Tim snarls. “I know you can do it sometimes, but this is different.”

“The power of love, perhaps?”

Tim gags and almost hurls the phone straight at one of the ninjas still left standing, but he still has choice words for Ra’s.

“I’m serious. How and why are they here?”

“Like I said the other night,” Ra’s says, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t underestimate my abilities. I often know exactly how to get past your wards, for myself and other. The only reason I tend to leave you alone is because I do want to give you your space. I think it’s good for you.”

Tim scoffs, and he seethes. “Well, you’re doing a pretty shitty job with that, aren’t you?”

“Please, my dear Timothy. I simply sent them over to give you a present.”

“The only think I’ve gotten so for are eight ninjas trashing my apartment.”

“That’s simply because you have an intruder there, no?” Ra’s hums. “They’re just trying to help you.”

“Jason is _not_ an intruder,” Tim hisses.

“Are you talking about me to Ra’s?” Jason asks. He’s ducking behind Tim’s kitchen countertop which has, surprisingly, kept up past the onslaught quite well. “Tell that asshole to call his fucking ninjas off, or I really will kill them!”

“I’m trying!” Tim yells back. “Just be patient!”

“Easier said than done when you’re not the one getting mauled by ninja assassins.”

“Mauled? You look fine to me.”

Jason huffs and goes back to looking for the perfect spot from which he can not-so brutally stab the last assailant into frozen submission.

There’s a pause, and he can hear Ra’s inhale. It’s a deep, long one, and Tim wonders what horrible deed he must’ve done in a past life to deserve someone like Ra’s getting possessive and jealous over him like a poorly-adjusted schoolgirl.

The inhale ceases. Tim waits, and now there’s only one ninja left while Jason glances over at Tim impatiently.

“Please forgive me, Timothy,” Ra’s says. There’s an undercurrent of old-set rage in his voice that Tim can feel even through the phone, but that only serves to turn Tim off even more. “It seems I acted in haste. I’ll tell them to stand down.”

Ra’s only has one operative left he can order around, but he follows instructions beautifully. He stops his onslaught immediately and doesn’t even retaliate when Jason creeps over to him, icicle chair leg in hand.

“Wait, don’t use that on him,” Tim says. “If you freeze him, I won’t get whatever present Ra’s wanted to give me, and then we’ll be stuck cleaning up this mess.”

Jason glares down at Tim, displeased, but he acquiesces and instead gives the assassin’s shoulder a harsh slap with Tim’s good cast-iron skillet.

After a quick wince, all the ninja does is hand over a small package to Tim using his good hand before leaving, taking the other seven ninjas with him.

It’s a bit of a slow process, seeing as he only has one good arm after Jason dislocated his other one, but he makes it works. He drags each other his fellow assassins out one by one, and neither Tim nor Jason make any efforts to help him because they are beyond content to just watch him struggle.

Slowly, Tim recalls that they are both still naked as they watch one of their mystery attackers haul away his comrades, but perhaps it’s for the best that way. For example, Jason looks both impressive and intimidating like this, in Tim’s opinion; even when soft, his dick could probably act as a weapon if he tried hard enough.

When the assassins are finally gone, Tim sets to work on repairing his wards. The rip is small but worryingly clean, and Tim reminds himself to speak to Babs about it in the near future.

He sighs. Forging new wards is always a pain in the ass, but it’s something he has to do on the regular now that he lives outside the mansion.

Jason, on the other hand, picks up the errant box the ninja had left behind. He inspects it visually, shakes it around, and there’s a rattle somewhere within.

“You mind if I open this?” Jason asks. “Or is this a secret gift from your boyfriend?”

Tim glares up at him. Never in his life has he ever wanted someone to refer to Ra’s as Tim’s boyfriend. The very thought has Tim wishing he could dip himself in the pit of an active volcano because anything less wouldn’t feel cleansing enough.

“I want to say yes, but I don’t know if Ra’s has enchanted it to curse anyone who isn’t me if they open it,” Tim replies when the pinch of his face starts to ache. “Hand it over.”

Jason tosses it instead. Tim hears it rattle even more and, with all the heavily sown impatience and irritation he has, he rips it open to find a single polished gemstone and a small note.

“My dearest Timothy,” he reads aloud. Jason’s snort interrupts him, but it’s short-lived enough for Tim to keep going as opposed to throwing the whole box down the garbage disposal.

“I hope this gift finds you well.” Now, Tim has to cough at an infuriated snort before he can continue. “Inside this box, I have included a 100% pure piece of orichalcum for you. As I’m sure you already know, orichalcum has many uses, including, but not limited to magic amplification and limited healing. I hope you think of me whenever you use it. Yours, Ra’s.”

“Gee, Tim,” Jason drawls. “How come you get _two_ sugar daddies?”

“Don’t,” Tim warms.

Jason disregards him. “Are you really going to use that thing?”

“I’ll have Babs check it out first. If it comes out clean, I don’t see why not.”

Jason crosses his arms and almost pouts. “Honestly, I do wish I had someone who would just give me purified orichalcum like that.”

“I can try to set you up with Ra’s, if you want ninja assassins flooding your apartment,” Tim clips.

“On second thought, I’ll just see if Bruce ever feels generous enough to get me some.”

Now that the danger is over, Tim’s dragon and succubus are back at full force, imploring him to continue what he had been doing earlier. The dragon, in particular, wants more vitality back to replenish the energy it had lost with those icicle spears, even for as minuscule as that magic had been.

Even Jason is observing Tim thoughtfully, waiting for any sign for anything more. He’s even hard again, fired up from the previous fight.

Tim, unfortunately, is not much more than exhausted and eager to set the whole day aside in the recesses of his mind to be pondered and reconciled on another day.

“Sorry, Jay, I’m not in the mood anymore,” and clearly he isn’t with that ‘Jay’ slipping out outside of sex like that. It’s a sign that he isn’t nearly sane enough to be having sex properly.

Jason remains mercifully quiet about that. Thank God, too, because Tim isn’t sure if he’s well equipped enough mentally to handle another wrench being tossed right into the pit of his magic.

“If you really want to, you can fuck me while I sleep,” Tim continues through a yawn. “I don’t mind, promise.”

“Tempting, but I won’t bite tonight,” Jason responds. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

They don’t shower tonight even though they probably should after that ridiculously unnecessary scuffle. All Tim does is fall into bed with a satisfying whump, and Jason is quick to join him afterwards. Tonight, he doesn’t fall asleep as readily; as tired as he is, he does still have the remnants of adrenaline spiking through him, keeping him up.

As such, tonight he’s awake long enough to feel Jason draw close. He curls a loose arm around Tim before letting his legs settle in the space between Tim’s. As usual, he radiates all of his heat, and Tim’s already sweating from all the little crevices he doesn’t even know he has, but he doesn’t pull away. He stays even after the dragon huffs out its complaint because he’s tired, he tells himself.

“Goodnight, pretty bird,” Jason whispers.

“Goodnight…”

He almost says Jay.

He does not say Jay.

“Jason.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think :)
> 
> if you want to talk to me or want to know more about how you can support me, you can find me on [tumblr](https://fever-d-dreams.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

Jason is cooking.

Tim wakes up and Jason is still in his apartment cooking. He knows because, even though he can’t see through walls right now with his dragon's eye relaxed and resting, he can at least smell blessed, hot grease wafting over to him through his open door.

But, even with the promise of much-needed, oil-laden food, Tim debates whether or not he truly wants to get. He spends a ridiculous amount of time trying to add more items to his mental pros list before Jason decides for him.

“Come on out, pretty bird!” Jason calls from beyond. “I know you’re awake! I have coffee here, too, which I know you need to be a halfway normal human being.

To say that Tim is predictable would probably be mostly a lie, but, at the very least, his love for coffee is constant and ever-pervading.

So, with the promise of hot coffee, Tim pads out of his room and into the living space where he can see splintered chair legs and couch fluff strewn all about, and he sighs.

“God, I nearly forgot about all that,” Tim says as he sits down at his kitchen countertop. Even though the chair he had broken last night had been his cheapest one, it was also the most comfortable. Now, he has to settle into his second favorite chair, and he’s already tallying up the expenses Ra’s is going to have to pay him for.

“I don’t know how you could forgot having your apartment broken into by assassins just so they could give you a fancy little gift,” Jason grumbles, "but I guess maybe this kinda thing isn’t that surprising to you.”

He sets a plate of food in front of Tim without a glance. There are eggs, bacon, and even pancakes loaded on top.

Tim is sure that he doesn’t have half the necessary ingredients for this anywhere in his apartment. Food is, occasionally, a concept that confuses and overwhelms him.

“I got tired of just waiting for you last night, so I went out and did some grocery shopping,” Jason explains as he flips one last pancake onto Tim’s stack. “I don’t know how you live like this. It’s not as if you can’t afford all the organic, non-GMO health foods you could possibly want, if that's the reason you have no fucking food anywhere.”

“If I drink enough coffee, I don’t even feel hunger,” Tim says. “By the way, where’s the coffee you promised me?”

“Right here, you beast.”

The mug is large and nearly filled to the brim. Tim takes a sip and finds himself pleasantly surprised; usually, Jason brews his coffee way too light, but it’s almost perfect this time.

Really, the coffee is all he wanted. He’s content to just sit there sipping away at it as he listens to the faraway clutter of silverware and pans hitting the mostly-intact sink while the morning slowly rolls by him.

Of course, that is way too much to ask for.

Tim’s phone pings ominously, and he knows what that specific sound means - who it means.

He grimaces before setting his cup down, but he doesn’t move to retrieve his phone just yet. He has to work himself up to that first.

“Is that Bruce?” Jason asks. His voice sounds light, but Tim can tell he’s absolutely chuffed with this turn of events.

After all, Jason’s usually the one getting his ass chewed out by Bruce, not Tim.

“Yeah,” Tim sighs.

The phone beeps again, insistent.

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

“No,” Tim says. “I’m going to enjoy my breakfast first, and then I’m going to go demand that Ra’s wire some money into my bank account before I even think about talking to Bruce.”

Jason’s eyebrows perk up at the same time his lips dip down. “Does Ra’s actually do that? Just give you money whenever you ask?”

Tim shrugs. “Most of the time. He can be pretty agreeable, sometimes.”

“I guess most people tend to be plenty agreeable when they want to woo someone,” Jason says. “Or maybe just push his luck to try to fuck you.”

Tim stares up at Jason with his most impressive unimpressed look. Jason, in return, remains unfazed.

“I’m just saying it like it is. Don’t get pissy with me just because you have some old shroud trying to get a piece of your ass. I get it, though. You do have a pretty nice ass, speaking from firsthand experience.”

Tim practically chokes on his eggs. “I’d rather we not talk about this while I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast.”

“The breakfast _I_ made for you,” Jason adds.

“Yes, thank you for this culinary masterpiece you’ve created for me this morning. It’s even better than your dick.”

Jason’s smile is sharp. Tim doesn’t even bother to meet it, instead taking his time sip away at his quickly cooling coffee. He’ll need another cup of it if he even wants to think about listening to another one of Bruce’s - or, heaven forbid, Alfred’s - lectures, but this will do for now.

He eats slowly, unaccustomed to eating so much food at once, especially after an ordeal like yesterday, but Jason never fails to give Tim the stink eye whenever Tim tries to push his half-finished plate to the side. Tim hasn’t had enouch coffee to want to argue.

Jason, on the other hand, scarfs down his own generous portion in no time.

“Where does all that food even go?” Tim grumbles, and he will admit that he’s jealous of Jason’s physique that he so easily maintains in spite of all the food he eats.

“Straight to my cock,” Jason deadpans.

For once, Tim can’t help spluttering around his coffee. He coughs, choked up by a half swallowed laugh and the sprinkles of coffee creeping through his lungs.

Jason grins back, toothy like he used to back in the day when he was Robin.

That thought calms Tim’s hacking down so quickly that he almost gets tear-inducing whiplash.

“Well,” Tim replies after a few deep breaths, “I guess there are worse places it could go.”

“If you eat more, maybe you’ll reap the benefits, too,” Jason teases.

Tim rolls his eyes. “We can’t all be as gifted as you, nor are we as apt as you towards putting on muscle.”

Jason shrugs before sneaking a slice of bacon from Tim’s plate like the empty hole he is. “Either way, you look fine, so I guess it doesn’t matter too much.”

Tim opens his mouth to respond, but his phone is beeping again. It’s different, though. Babs is looking for him, also ready to question him about the rip in his wards last night, probably.

And she’ll tease him for ages about it all, but at least she won’t give him the holy hell that Bruce will. Besides, Tim needs to talk to her anyway.

He doesn’t really _need_ to talk to Bruce. He just has to.

Jason takes their second interruption as a sign to leave. It’s not strange to see him go because Jason doesn’t typically stay for very long, except for those few times some weeks ago when he made Tim go grocery shopping with him before also making lunch.

It’s not strange, but Tim takes note.

Still, Jason doesn’t leave immediately even after his restlessness begins. He lingers, pours himself a second cup of coffee, and lets Tim gaze his bare chest for awhile longer.

Then, he speaks.

“Listen, I think I’ll be gone for awhile again,” Jason announces. “Bruce has something else for me to do somewhere in Ukraine. More black market magical hunters, I think.”

Somewhere inside himself, Tim’s succubus bemoans the idea of being without Jason - being without Jason’s presence in their bed, all hot and bothersome in the best ways possible. The dragon, too, sounds its own disapproval at the idea of the power source that is Jason being gone for who knows how long again, but Tim ignores them both.

“They’re in Ukraine now?” Tim asks to cover them up.

“Bruce thinks so.” Jason takes another long swig of his coffee, and Tim  
is drawn in by the bob of his Adam’s apple amidst the hefty chords of his neck. “Personally, I think all the head honchos are still somewhere in Russia just because what the fuck is in Siberia, but Bruce has some intel about something in the Ukraine, I guess.”

“At least he trusts you enough to send you out there.”

Jason snorts. “It’s probably more like he just wants me gone, but it’s fine. Gotham hasn’t been too horrible lately, so I think I can leave her alone for a bit longer.”

He turns to Tim, still shirtless. His hair’s also a ruffled at the edges, and the white streak across the front of his bangs is fluffed up in greeting.

In a way, Jason looks cute like this.

Tim hopes he also looks halfway decent. He’s never had the best roll-out-of-bed look.

Jason pulls up close, and he smells like flickering cinders once more. “I’ll try to be back sooner this time,” he whispers.

“What?” Tim breathes, soaked up in Jason’s scent. “You don’t want to stick around Ukraine for awhile?”

“Definitely not. Especially not when there are magical hunter gangs roaming around.” Jason’s hand brushes against Tim’s arm, hardly more than a flicker in the wind. “Besides, who know what’ll happen to Gotham if I stay away for too long?”

“I imagine we might actually do better without you around for awhile,” Tim says.

“And let Bruce ruin everything with his outdated sense of justice?” Jason turns his nose up, and he feels even hotter than before. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s not as if you’ve actually killed anyone recently.”

“If there’s anything more I hate than asshole criminals, it’s being constantly bitched at by you guys.”

Tim hums out something definitively unconvinced. To his credit, Jason takes it in stride.

Instead of arguing further, he simply pulls Tim up against him even closer.

In the beginning of their 'relationship' - otherwise known as, when they first started regularly sleeping with each other following that hasty, slightly painful fuck on that balcony - Tim abhorred standing in front of Jason like this. It just highlighted how much taller, broader, and _bigger_ Jason was compared to Tim. Not only that, being looked down upon while Jason wore that typical smirk of his had encroached on unbearable several times.

Now, though, it’s a sight become so familiar that it would be mundane if Jason weren’t so attractive.

“Try not to fuck Kovar while I’m gone. I’m afraid he might accidentally snap you in half,” Jason says.

“As if you couldn’t do the same thing if you were ever so inclined.”

“Good thing I like you so much to want to keep you in one piece, huh?”

“I’m flattered.”

Jason’s smirking down at him the way he always does, but it also has a hint of a genuine, good-natured laugh somewhere in there. Tim’s not sure if past him would’ve been more or less offended by that, but he’s overall pleased with it now.

Jason leans down for a kiss, and his bulk moves and flexes with him. Back then, they never really kissed like this outside of sex, but Tim accepts it easily as he sinks into the roll of Jason’s tongue.

Tim’s breath must stink, unbrushed and coffee-laden as it is, but Jason isn’t deterred at all, and Tim is too distracted by Jason’s musk to care about much at all.

Then, Jason is pulling away against the linger of their lips.

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispers.

“Yeah.”

Jason dresses quickly and gives Tim another silent, “better finish the rest of your food” glance before he’s off. Suddenly, being surrounded by generous amounts of home-cooked food and broken remnants of furniture is exhausting.

Tim sighs and decides it’s time to go furniture shopping.

He doesn’t meet up with Babs for another few days, busy as he is with getting enough money out of Ra’s so he could buy himself new, nicer furniture that could, hopefully, take more of a beating.

Of course, he makes it abundantly clear to Ra’s that he hadn’t appreciated the scuffle of the other night, even if it came with an admittedly wonderful gift.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ra’s drawls. He sounds gritty and self-satisfied, the voice of someone who demands whatever they want and damn the consequences. It’s almost like Jason’s, but so much less appealing. “But, Timothy, I was just trying to keep you safe.”

Tim nearly suffocates on his scoff.

“From a good fuck that didn’t involve you?” he accuses.

A nearby woman gasps out loud. He wonders if she’ll go around blabbing about the vulgarity of Bruce Wayne’s adopted son to the media outlets. If his luck would have it, Vale would hear of it first, and she would laugh too hard to even think about writing a half-brained article about it.

Such are the perks of being a well-known succubus - being able to talk about sex out loud without too many repercussions for a young socialite like him.

She sniffs loudly as he turns over the price tag for the new chair he’s looking out. It’s nice, and he really likes the matching couch. Maybe he’ll just splurge a bit for now.

“I’m hurt that you’d think of me like that,” Ra’s responds over a small bout of tense silence. “You know I genuinely care about you, and I want to do what’s best for you.”

“If you know what’s best for me, you won’t pull a stunt like that again.”

“I will keep that in mind, my dear Timothy.”

In the end, Tim decides to buy the whole furniture set. He has enough money from Ra’s, so he ends the call shortly after that, whistling a happy tune as he finalizes his signature on the check.

In another few days, he’s not as happy when he finally does to meet Babs.

“So,” she begins, orichalcum in hand as she observes it, rolling it around before sticking it inside one of her many, complicated contraptions, “it was Ra’s’ guys?”

“Yeah.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

“Tim, I never thought I’d have to say this, but maybe you should go ahead and get yourself a restraining order.”

“Against Ra’s?” Tim asks. “As if that would do any good.”

“If you get an enchanted one from one of the better magic-users we know, it might work pretty well for at least a little while,” Babs says.

“And risk making him even more ‘protective’ of me? No thanks.”

“Well, you have to do something, soon, or else Bruce is going to drag you back to the mansion by the scruff of your neck at this rate.” She pauses her examination to look up at Tim through narrowed eyes. “Have you spoken to him about this yet?”

Tim glances away, all of a sudden extremely fascinated by everything around him even though he’s seen it all before.

“Not yet,” he mumbles when he can feel Babs’ gaze grow even fiercer. “But I will soon.”

“Yeah you will,” she huffs. “I’m surprised Bruce has let you go this long without being lectured at.”

“Have you determined anything about the orichalcum yet?” Tim asks in a hurry.

Babs stares him down before responding. “It look good and pure to me. It’s a fine cut of orichalcum that’ll probably help you a lot with storing and pinpointing your magic.”

She hands it over to him carefully, and it’s warm now from her ministrations. However, after the slightest dip of his magic into it, it’s cold and all his once more.

“I’m sure Bruce will also be very interested in seeing it,” she continues lightly.

“Please, just let me wallow in denial for a bit longer,” Tim begs.

She clicks her tongue at him with a teasing smile. “No can do, Tim. We all gotta face the music and the big, scary vampire man when the time comes.”

Tim winces because she’s right, and Babs just laughs at his chagrin.

Tim’s time comes in another three days.

Bruce has been calling him just about everyday ever since the incident, but Tim has been adamant in just ignoring them, coming up with the worst excuses imaginable as to why he simply cannot make the trip to the manor, sorry. Bruce clearly doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t push the matter too much. Probably because he has Barbara and Dick keeping an even closer eye on him than usual, which is annoying, but also preferable to having The Talk.

Then, Alfred calls.

“Master Timothy,” Alfred says, and he sounds as collected and graceful beyond belief even with the way the phone turns his voice into something vaguely tinned and condensed. “I have prepared dinner for you, with plenty wrapped up and left over for you to take home because I know how lax you can be with your diet. Chips are not proper meal replacement, you know.”

“I know, Alfred,” Tim replies slowly. “Do you mind if I swing by later to pick them up? I’ve been a bit busy lately.”

“Too busy for a single meal?”

“Well -“

“Please, Master Tim, even I get tired of seeing Master Bruce scowling at his phone all the time.”

Tim pinches the bridge of his nose because he knows when he’s irrevocably lost.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

When he arrives, Damian is there to greet him with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. His fangs are out, too; whether it’s merely a show of aggression or a sign that he can’t completely control them yet is beyond Tim, but it still pisses him off and makes Damian even cockier.

As the adult between them, Tim should probably ignore Damian’s goading in favor of holding his head high as he gets closer to his time with the big, scary vampire. At the same time, Damian not so much a child as he is a menace in teenager form, so Tim doesn’t feel all that bad scowling back.

“Good evening, Master Timothy.”

Tim turns his attention away from the hobgoblin in front of him towards Alfred instead.

“I’m glad you could make it. I’ve made some of your favorite dishes.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” Tim says, and he’s plenty sincere because he at least needs some good food in his system if he’s supposed to face Bruce.

Bruce enters the dining room a few minutes later. Even after having just seen him a few days ago, he’s still as intimidating as ever. Not to mention, he’s obviously displeased with the wait.

“Tim,” Bruce addresses with a nod. “It’s nice to see you. I was wondering when you’d finally have time for me.”

Tim wrinkles his nose and chews as slow as possible so he can draw out the moment before replying. “Honestly, if you really wanted to speak to me, you could’ve done so way before this. It’s not like my wards can hold you out.”

Bruce frowns. “I do actually want to give you some privacy, but I find it difficult to convince myself that I should when I keep hearing news of Ra’s al Ghul breaking into your apartment.”

Damian raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t interrupt just yet. Alfred doesn’t show much of anything, but Tim knows he’s also probably unhappy with the news.

“It wasn’t Ra’s himself the other night,” Tim says. “It was just some of his ninja assassins.”

“You say like it’s supposed to make me feel better,” Bruce says.

“Does it?”

“No. In fact, I find it even more concerning, knowing that he can even send in his assassins past your wards.”

“It was fine,” Tim clips. The food is delicious, as always, but he can hardly taste it past his mounting annoyance. “They weren’t even trying to hurt me.”

“What were they there for, then?” Bruce demands.

Tim shovels more food into his mouth and speaks before he swallows because he’s feeling petty. “Ra’s sent them to deliver a.. gift to me.”

“And what, exactly, was that gift?”

“A piece of pure orichalcum that’s completely untouched or tampered with. I had Babs check.”

Damian’s other eyebrow goes up.

And Bruce’s lip thins. The act highlights his deepening wrinkles, making him look even less like his Brucie act, and that just makes Tim even more nervous.

“You could've just asked me for one if you wanted one that badly,” Bruce says slowly.

“It’s not like I actually asked him for it,” Tim refutes. “He just went ahead and gave it to me.”

“Why?”

Tim shrugs. “For goodwill?”

Damian snorts before Alfred quiets him with a stern look.

“If that’s all, then why was there a reported altercation at your apartment that same night?”

Tim knew something like that wouldn’t fly past Bruce’s radar, with or without Babs, but he still hoped it would just to help make his own life a bit easier.

Easy was always too much to ask for, it seems.

Tim sighs, and his silverware clicks. “Jason was there, too, and Ra’s’ men apparently deemed him to be a threat.”

For once, Bruce remains somewhat taken aback.

Alfred, on the other hand, looks almost pleased, while Damian decides that his perfect opportunity to chime in has finally arrived.

“It’s no wonder my grandfather is able to find you so easily,” he sneers, fangs flashing under the gaudy chandelier lights. “You know how much wraiths _reek_. He could probably find you easy from just that, though I don’t know why he would be so fascinated with someone like you.”

“Damian,” Bruce hisses.

Damian remains undeterred. “I’m simply trying to give Drake some advice. To be more specific, maybe he shouldn’t lay in bed with Jason so often if he wants to keep a low profile.”

This time, Tim is the one to gasp out an affronted, “Damian!”

“That’s enough!” Bruce booms. He sends a shriveling glare Damian’s direction. It cows him, but only the slightest bit. Nowadays, Dick’s the only one who can truly reel Damian in, but he’s off fighting crime in Blüdhaven for the night, free from this hellish dinner.

He turns his attention to Tim. “So Jason was there with you?”

“Yeah. He helped fight off the ninja’s quiet well,” Tim replies as easily as he can.

“Are they all still alive?”

Tim glares. “Yes. None of them were hurt that badly, I can assure you of that. Do you really think I would’ve let Jason kill any of them?”

“Jason’s strong,” Bruce says quietly. “You are too, Tim, but I think we both know that there might not be much you can do against Jason when he’s… determined.”

His tight blue eyes flicker down to Tim’s left side for the slightest second, and Tim knows why. Tim knows what Bruce is saying, even if it makes them both uncomfortable to think about. He gets it.

But things are different now.

“It’s fine now, isn’t it?” Tim breathes. “Nothing especially memorable happened, and I even have a nice piece of orichalcum and some new furniture for the trouble.”

From across the table, Bruce heaves a sigh so huffy that Tim can practically feel his exasperation riding on the airwaves.

“I just wish you’d take your own safety more seriously,” Bruce says.

“I know, I know. Ra’s is far more dangerous than I think he is because I’m not taking the time to realize how conniving and threatening he really is,” Tim huffs. “But, Bruce, I already got through one of his previous kidnapping attempts. I think I’d be fine even if he went ahead and tried to stage another one.”

“But you don’t know what he’s capable of now,” Bruce argues. “You don’t know what new magic he might have come up with since then.”

“He also doesn’t know exactly what I’m capable of anymore, either,” Tim counters. “Besides, we also have Jason and Luke now, so that should help.”

With his face scrubbed up angrily, Bruce gears up to speak again before Damian cuts in, and this time Tim is mildly grateful for it.

“Father, please,” Damian drones, already bored of this discussion, “I know for a fact that my grandfather adores Drake, for reasons beyond my understanding.” He makes sure to send one more nasty look Tim’s way with that, and Tim is far less grateful for that. “Grandfather would be the last person to harm Drake. Physically, at least.”

“And he won’t have enough time to do anything to me mentally,” Tim continues, “so it’s fine for me to continue living alone outside of the manor.”

“Or you could just live with Jason at this rate,” Damian adds.

Everyone ignores that for now.

Instead, Bruce sets his cutlery down sharply despite Alfred’s displeased frown.

“Somehow, you’ve become even more stubborn than Jason,” Bruce grumbles.

“I think it’s par for the course for all Robins,” Tim says.

“Yes, that seems to be the case.” Bruce sighs again, and Tim almost feels sorry for him. “I’m just worried. Ra’s and the League of Assassins aren’t the only people we have to worry about anymore.”

“You mean those creature hunter gangs that have started gaining notoriety?” Tim asks.

“Did you hear about that from Jason?”

“He did mention something about Siberia and Ukraine,” Tim answers, “but Cass is pretty concerned too.”

“Their activities haven’t been too notable locally, but they’ve been making themselves more and more known over the past few months,” Bruce explains. “We can only hope to stop them before they start branching out further on an international scale.”

“If you want to stop them faster, then you should send me out there,” Tim says.

Bruce fixes him with a hard stare, and Tim feels like a poor, dissected heart laid down bare on a culture slide to be toyed with.

“Absolutely not,” Bruce says with every ounce of finality he has.

Too bad for him that Tim is quite stubborn now. “Bruce, Cass and Jason are both bright, but their smarts are both that of someone who’s street-savvy. It’s going to be difficult for them to go out and take down large, international harvesting and smuggling operations.”

“For once, I agree with Drake,” Damian says.

“I said no,” Bruce says. “You’re needed here in Gotham, Tim.”

“You have so many others that can help protect Gotham,” Tim argues. “Not many of them could do what I can, and you know that.”

“I don’t know why you insist on putting yourself in harm’s way like this.”

“I’m not doing this just to be rebellious or to torture myself,” Tim says. “I’m doing this because this is the right thing to do, and I can help.”

“You are a Drake, Tim,” Bruce breathes. It’s such a simple assertion, but it means so much more than that.

Tim bites the inside of his mouth before continuing. “Yes, but they don’t know that.”

“They will find out soon enough.”

“And if they do, I just don’t let them take anything from me,” Tim says. “It’s as simple as that.”

“You know things are never that simple.”

God, does Tim know. He’s known that since the tender age of thirteen when he first became Robin, and he once again knew exactly that when his dragon had awoken on his sixteenth birthday.

He had known that with startling clarity when he first saw Jason again, alive once more and crazed.

Regardless, he says, “You can’t keep me away from this forever. You and I both know that.”

“Then let me keep you away from it for as long as I can,” Bruce whispers. He’s still looking at Tim from across the table, but he suddenly looks far older and far less intimidating.

Tim’s breath gets caught in the cold little recesses of his chest because words like that are unfair, and everyone else falls so silent. Even Damian barely stirs now that he’s picked up that much-needed sliver of decorum that most people acquire by the age of eight.

Tim licks his lips, blinks, breathes, and then speaks. “Alright, but I won’t make it easy for you. Nothing’s ever that simple, right?”

“No, I suppose not.”

The rest of dinner passes easily enough, especially now that Tim can properly enjoy the food. With the mood restored, Damian isn’t afraid to go ahead and point jabs Tim’s way, but they’re easy enough to meet, especially when Damian’s growing fangs start getting so irritating that he begins gnawing on almost-clean bones to help relieve the pressure.

Overall, Alfred looks nice and pleased with the way dinner’s gone by, and even Bruce calms down enough for them to talk about boring, mundane things to way most kids do with their father.

In the end, Tim even gets to walk away with plenty of food, only a few stern words from Alfred, and a beautiful bottle of whiskey. He may not be the biggest fan of whiskey, but even he can appreciate high-quality drinks when they’re in front of him like this.

He also knows that Jason’s quite partial to whiskey when he isn’t too busy indulging in his sweet, intensely alcohol-laden drinks.

Of course, the whiskey is mostly for Tim, but he figures that’s a nice thing to keep note of.

Nothing especially interesting happens over the next few days. Like he had insisted, Ra’s remains mostly removed from Tim’s everyday activities, and there are no more galas for Tim to fret over for the time being. He even shows some mercy to Bruce by trying to keep out of the big trouble.

Unfortunately, Tim can’t exactly avoid the trouble that ends up finding him on a breezy, beautiful, and clear afternoon during lunch with Dick. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think :)
> 
> if you want to talk to me or want to know more about how you can support me, you can find me on [tumblr](https://fever-d-dreams.tumblr.com)
> 
> i'm also maybe interested in taking prompts on tumblr if you guys are interested in that?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays to whomever that phrase applies to! i hope it's nice and relaxing!!

“I think you’re underestimating Jason,” is the first thing Dick says in response to Tim’s worries, and that’s just about the exact opposite of what Tim wants to hear. “He used to be a Seeker, after all. He has the exact skill set for something like this, what with that weird magical sense for hidden riches. Whatever that means.”

“And you think the hidden riches in this case is the base of operations of these hunters?” Tim asks blandly.

“Why not? Isn’t that why he ended up going after Bruce’s tires back in the day?” Dick suggest.

“What, like B has been the hidden treasure all along?”

Dick shrugs. “Makes sense to me.”

“I’m pretty sure that was more a result of Jason being a young, impulsive child in desperate need of money than anything else.”

Tim’s drink has gone warm under the hot afternoon sun, and their waiter looks too busy attending to the other diners to get to them soon. He sneaks a glance around them before quickly freezing some up the water in his cup back up to refreshing.

Dick watches on amused.

“Anyway, don’t let Jason hear you say stuff like that,” Tim continues past the ice in the back of his mouth. “He’d probably puke at the thought.”

“And B would cry,” Dick says, wistful.

“Either way, Jason’s not a Seeker anymore,” Tim says. “He’s a wraith now that he’s back from the dead. A fire-attuned one at that. As if he needs even _more_ destructive power.”

“You’re just upset because Jason’s fire power is naturally good against your ice,” Dick says with an infuriating lightness.

Tim doesn’t respond immediately. He instead pokes around at his food and wonders how something as simple as pancakes can taste so different from person to person while also seething at the mostly false accusation.

Dick fills in the space in no time. “Besides, we also have Babs helping out, and she’s still a Seeker. I also think Bruce just wants to give him something to do to distract him. As much as he doesn’t really like Kori and Roy, he at least trusts them to keep Jason in line.”

“Keep him in line from what?” Tim asks.

Dick averts his eyes, and his some of his love dust swirls around him in his breeze. It’s mostly subtle, and also most likely an accident, but it still attracts several interested gazes.

Tim, on the other hand, looks upon Dick with disinterest. Sheepishly, Dick calms his winds down before responding.

“Well, you know…” Dick begins haltingly. Dick’s winds pick up a bit, without all the love dust this time. It blocks their sound in without making it obvious to anyone around them, but Dick leans in closer anyway. “Jason did have that brush with soul magic back when he first became a wraith, even if it wasn’t by his own volition.”

Tim stares on with even more distaste. “A single brush with soul magic does not make a wraith a shroud,” he says slowly.

“Yeah, but you do have to admit that it makes it a bit easier,” Dick whispers.

“Well, all things considered, I think Jason’s been doing great,” Tim says.

Dick tilts his head to the side, unconvinced.

“I mean, those first few months might’ve been rough, but after that he’s been fairly decent,” Tim asserts.

“Tim, he almost killed you,” Dick states.

“And yet I am still here.”

“He’s _actually_ killed plenty of other people.”

“But he’s long past most of that,” Tim says.

Dick sighs, and his love dust all but sighs with him. “All I’m saying is is that I think giving Jason and his team a mission like this is a good thing. It’s good for him. It’ll give him something to do that’s really worthwhile.”

“Even though it could probably be done much more efficiently if he had someone like me helping him out,” Tim says.

“Babs is helping him.”

“Look, I don’t mean any offense because she is great and probably listening in on us as he speak, but there are some things that she simply cannot do,” Tim says. “That’s why she has her own team to help her.”

Dick clicks his tongue as he smears syrup over his plate. “Tim, I get what you’re saying. I really do, and I don’t think that you’re wrong, necessarily. I just think you need to take a step back to consider the situation more rationally.” He smiles up at Tim, but it’s strained. “You’re usually so good at that, Tim. I know you really like Jason and all, but you can’t let that cloud your decision. We can’t let our relationships do that to us.”

Tim swears that he blacks out for a second because Dick’s words don’t make sense and Tim’s fork is suddenly scraping loudly across his plate. Even with Dick’s winds, the other lunch-goers turn to look at them with a mixture of annoyance and concern, and both Tim and Dick turn up their charm to max to appease them.

“What?” Tim asks very ungracefully.

“Everything will be fine, Tim,” Dick says instead of properly asking Tim’s question. “If Jason and them can’t figure it all out quickly enough, _then_ Bruce will send you out. Don’t worry so much about it, or else you’ll start getting premature wrinkles.”

Tim lets the matter drop because, deep down inside, he knows Dick is right. He knows that Bruce won’t let anything major happen if he can prevent it, and it’s not like Tim doesn’t have his own problems to deal with a la Ra’s and Gotham gangs becoming bolder by the minute.

He knows there are so many factors to be considered that don’t include his own personal feelings - likes and dislikes completely disregarded for his the greater good. In the end, this really isn’t about Tim. At least, a good majority of it isn’t.

So, he’s ready to finally let the matter rest for at least a week. The wrinkles he already owns at the tender age of twenty-three are enough for now. He doesn’t need to give himself any more than necessary.

The universe, however, does not agree with these plans.

From the corner of his dragon’s eye, Tim sees the faintest hint of movement that most people would probably ignore like it’s nothing. For all intents and purposes, it is nothing.

However, as Tim watches it creep closer in slow motion, he knows this isn’t nothing.

“Dick!” Tim shouts, and some people throw strange looks his direction, and he thinks he understands why. Some people hold strange opinions about his predilections as a succubus, after all. Regardless, they don’t have much time to fully judge him because a beast comes rampaging down the street straight for them, huge canines bared and prepared.

The creature appears to be some kind of chimera, though its body looks more similar to that of a horse rather than a goat; maybe to make it more of a force to be reckoned with, maybe just to make it appear more intimidating.

Tim finds that quite strange, though, because most chimeras are already intimidating enough; goats were assholes, associated with Satan, and thus plenty intimidating enough, in his opinion.

Not to mention, Jason’s quite fond of goats.

But, before Tim can think about that any further, the beast rears its, admittedly, terrifying face and prepares to charge.

Time stops around him. He wonders if this signals his call to action where he finally reveals his ice magic to the public. Doing so would inspire more than a few curious whispers, though, after his careful curation of his solely-succubus persona.

Because succubi don’t have ice magic.

And Tim wants to maintain all that he had built up, but he can’t very well just let Dick fight off the chimera with only himself and his wind magic.

Furthermore, Dick, too, has an image to protect.

Thankfully, by the grace of all that remains holy within the mounting hellscape Gotham rests within, someone else decides to help deal with the situation.

Tim sees Damian flying into to the scene first, dressed up as Robin. Strips of his suit flicker behind him, however, torn from his fledgling wings. Even his gloves fray at the edges from his burgeoning claws.

Talia’s influence has finally made itself known. Hell hath no fury like an uppity half-Fury going through the most awkward and stilted puberty, it seems, because Damian strikes the beast’s side with a vigor that hinges on dangerously impetuous.

His efforts aren’t all for naught, though. The beast snarls and quickly turns its attention to the strange, small bundle of terror clawing away at its hide, and Damian becomes the sole target within its sights.

Dick watches on nervously, and his winds refuse to still. Tim, on the other hand, almost hopes to see Damian get his ass handed to him - but only a little, of course.

Then, Stephanie pops into the scene with a crackle in the air, and Damian is safe. She descends with majesty, a pretty paragon of a Valkyrie come to rain her judgement, and, for a second, Tim wonders how he ever fell out of love with her.

She lands with ease and promptly crashes a streak of lightning into the chimera that sends it flying.

Ah, Tim thinks to himself. He remembers.

He never could keep up with her. She moved so fast, so far, more than Tim could handle.

A shame, but probably for the best.

“Are you alright?” Stephanie asks in her official Batgirl voice. On the other hand, her posture screams casual, and Bruce would no doubt chew her out for it if he were here.

But he’s not, so Tim smiles freely. “Yeah, all thanks to you.”

“And Robin,” Dick adds hastily because the little demon, vampire, Fury boy has begun to creep towards them from the side, with his usual scowl affixed tightly on his scrunched up face.

“Yes, and Robin,” Tim amends. “Even though he didn’t really do much.”

Damian stalks over even faster now, and Tim has to admit that his new Fury additions really are kinda impressive.

He wonders just how frightening Talia really looks with her wings and claws spread, poison breath at the ready. He wonders just how Bruce dealt with that, back in the day.

Then, Damian stands before him, and Tim doesn’t wonder anymore. “The battle isn’t over yet. I still have plenty of time to show you just how capable I am,” Damian states haughtily.

“Maybe another time, Robin,” Stephanie says. Her eyes point elsewhere, to the spot where the chimera rises to its feet. “Right now, we have to get all these civilians to safety. While it might not feel like it sometimes, even members of high society like the Wayne’s are civilians, too.”

Damian sneers. Suddenly, he looks far less impressive than he had minutes ago - younger. As expected, Dick folds at Damian’s display of unprovoked aggression, and Tim will never understand Dick’s affection for the hellspawn.

“I can’t wait to hear all about your amazing feats later, Robin,” Dicks says. Damian, unsurprisingly, calms a bit at that.

Tim just rolls his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll learn everything later. But, for now, we gotta go.”

Finally, Dick gives Tim a sharp nod, and they’re off. Part of Tim eats himself away with guilt and accusations for not staying behind to try to help, secret identity and years of hiding his dragon away be damned because that’s the right thing to do. The very thing Tim begged Bruce to let him do all those years ago.

At the same time, Tim’s sure Damian and Stephanie are more than capable of resolving the situation. If Damian just so happens to get ruffled up a bit during the process… Well, Tim won’t celebrate, but giving himself enough time out of the day to laugh about it for a second might work.

That time is not now.

Now, Dick frets before they even round the corner into a nearby alleyway in the middle of an uppity district of Gotham where middling pick-pockets usually steer clear of.

“We should go and help them,” Dick breathes. It comes out in a flurry, and his gale rush pushes down even more frantic.

“They’ll be fine, and you know it,” Tim says. “And you know it’ll be for the best to just let those two handle it. It usually doesn’t do us any good to lump together too many superheroes in one place, after all.”

“Yeah, but -“

“Give it thirty minutes, and they’ll be safe in your arms in the Bat Cave.”

As usual, Tim reads the future by virtue of common sense and reasoning. Dick and Tim arrive at the manor just minutes before Damian and Stephanie, and Tim, once again, predicts the way Dick hurried to scoop the both of them up in a massive bear hug.

“Grayson, let me go _now_! I am no longer a child who needs to be coddled over!” Damian squirms in Dick’s grip, a futile effort; Tim knows because he, too, used to struggle like that to no avail.

Stephanie remains resigned to her fate, expression bored. “Oh, come on, did you really think we wouldn’t be able to handle something like that? It was a piece of cake.”

“And what exactly did you fight out there?”

Tim turns. Dick drops his hostages to the ground, and the other three also pivot so they can all watch Bruce stalk into the room.

Stephanie shrugs. “I’m not entirely sure, but it looked to be some kinda chimera. It had a horse’s body instead of a goat’s, though. It also resisted Damian’s physical attacks pretty well, but it didn’t stand much of a change against lightning.”

“Any sign of where or who it came from?”

Stephanie shakes her head. “Not that I could tell.”

Bruce nods approvingly. The gesture hardly looks impressive, but Stephanie still preens while Damian sulks at his apparent inefficiency.

Then, Damian perks up as he shuffles through his utility belt. “But _I_ was the one who remembered to grab a sample of the beast, just in case!”

“Only because I wasn’t interested in scrounging through a bloody carcass,” Stephanie mutters.

Bruce pretends not to hear. “Good work, Damian. I’ll have Oracle take a look at it to see if she can get any new information on it.”

“I can help,” Tim says.

Bruce fixes him down flat with a stare and the slightest frown. “No. I want you to stay behind for a bit.”

“Because of the dragon’s eye?” Tim half-scoffs, half-demands.

“Yes.”

No matter how much time passes, Tim suspects he will never truly gain the ability to go against Bruce so thoroughly. Sometimes, he wishes he could, and he often wonders exactly where the difficulty comes from in the first place.

Going against Dick to bring Bruce back had been easy. Denying Jason forgiveness for a couple of months, while agonizing in its own, special way, came easy to Tim in other ways. Even Alfred never had this same overbearing effect on Tim; no, his influence instills more guilt than shame.

Tim thinks about his father - about how his father tried so hard to keep Tim safe, and for what? But, even then, Tim held little qualms against lying straight to his father’s face with the sweetest smile he could manage.

When it comes to Bruce, though, Tim struggles to defy even the most basic requests.

So, he doesn’t.

“Alright,” Tim whispers, and that’s that.

Bruce goes off to find Barbara, Dick in tow. Dick says he misses her. He always does, it seems.

Damian lingers for a little. He turns to Tim, fists resting against his hips before saying, “You’ve been surprisingly agreeable these past few weeks, Drake. Is it because Todd isn’t around to distract you?”

“What is that I hear?” Tim begins lightly. “You actually think I’m quite reasonable most of the time, so it must be Jason’s bad influence making me unlikable?”

Damian practically snarls his next words. “That’s not what I said!”

“It’s ok, Damian,” Tim coos. “You don’t have to be ashamed of liking me. Most people are quite fond of me, your grandfather included.”

Damian sends one more scowl Tim’s way, full of fangs and raised feathers on his nape, before leaving in a huff, followed closely by a disapproving Alfred.

“I do wish you wouldn’t tease Master Damian like that,” Alfred says as he passes by. “He in a very sensitive time of his life. Not only is he going through puberty, but he’s also starting to grow into his powers more.”

“I wasn’t like that back when I was his age, going through the same things,” Tim argues.

“Yes, but you weren’t raised by The League of Assassins.”

Tim concedes that point to Alfred. Alfred far surpasses him still on the mental scoreboard Tim has kept track of all these years, but Tim never expected to beat Alfred anyway.

And, upon Alfred’s departure, only Tim and Stephanie remain, and she wastes no time taking advantage of it.

“So,” she drawls, and Tim already dreads whatever she’ll say next, “you and Jason, huh?”

“What about us?” Tim asks quietly.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I’ve seen the looks you two have been giving each other these past few months, all sultry but sweet when you think no one is looking,” Stephanie says. She, too, places her hands upon her hips with vigor, and Tim just wants to go home.

“How would you have seen any of that? You haven’t been in the same place as Jason and I for precisely these past few months.”

“Cass tells me things,” Steph responds, smug and winning. “And Babs _shows_ me things.”

“Well, despite whatever Cass and Babs have told and shown you, there’s really nothing going on between me and Jason.”

“Oh? So you don’t canoodle with each other during fancy parties before going home with each other on a fairly regular basis whenever possible?” Steph teases.

“We do not _canoodle_ with each other.”

“But you don’t deny the other part?”

“I’m not a liar,” Tim says. Steph’s expression takes a turn towards heavy skepticism. “Not with you, at least,” he amends. “So I won’t deny that we sleep with each other sometimes.”

“Sometimes.” She sounds unconvinced.

“Sometimes.”

Steph rolls her eyes. She probably thinks he’s not being much fun right now, but that’s for the best; it’ll hopefully convince her to drop the subject quicker.

“Why only sometimes? You don’t think it’s time for you and Jason to DTR?” she asks instead of dropping the subject.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, DTR? Define the relationship?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no relationship to define,” Tim says flatly.

“You sleep together on the regular, and you don’t think there’s a relationship between you two?”

Tim shrugs. “If anything, we’re… friends with benefits, I suppose. But it’s a bit insulting to define a relationship like that, isn’t it?”

Steph stares at him with a clearly defined frown and a slow blink. She’s waiting for him to say more.

Tim refuses. He refuses to have this conversation - not with Dick, Stephanie, or anyone else, really.

Steph must see as much in his pointed gaze because she soon relaxes the crease in her forehead with a sigh.

“Fine. Have it your way. I’m just trying to help, you know? I think you and Jason work surprisingly well together. At the very least, the two of you keep the other in line.”

“Noted,” Tim deadpans.

“Noted, but ultimately filed away into your mental trash can, I’m sure.”

Tim doesn’t even try to refute her.

At least Steph takes it in stride. “Well, when things change later on, I’ll be here, ready to say ‘I told you so.’”

“You sound so assured.”

“Because I am.”

Tim doesn’t say anything further, so Stephanie finally lets the issue go - for now. No one else comes to find him, either, so he heads home in a hurry, grateful for his soft bed and quiet penthouse apartment.

 

* * *

 

 

The quiet breaks later that night.

Tim isn’t expecting any visitors, so he springs into action quickly at the prick of his wards, magic at the ready. He doesn’t feel a distinct break, which is good sign, he hopes. That means his surprise guest is someone keyed into his wards.

Or, maybe Ra’s has just gotten better at getting in.

His ice rests comfortingly against his skin. When he’s without his magic, he greatly prefers using a bo staff to fight. With his ice, however, Tim finds short spears quite effective.

Then, he feels heat, smells the burnt embers of a forgotten blaze, and he stills.

And, lo and behold, there’s Jason, crouched down in the middle of Tim’s living room.

“Jason, what are you doing?” Tim demands. He wills his ice to melt before getting any closer to Jason, only belatedly realizing that maybe he should’ve kept them around for a little longer. Regardless, he continues to approach. “I almost killed you!”

Jason doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even move, and that worries Tim.

So, Tim takes a tentative step forward, and then another. Jason makes no indication that he’s noticed.

“Jason?”

Tim reaches out to place a soft hand on Jason’s shoulder, even though that, too, is probably a bad idea. At least Jason finally gives some sort of response upon being touched, though his response is unexpected.

Jason startles at Tim’s hand, but he recovers almost immediately. He spins and bears down over Tim with all that damnable weight of his, so quickly Tim’s back is against the floor before his next blink.

“Jason, what is going on? What happened to Ukraine?” Tim wriggles against Jason as best as he can, but Jason has him expertly pinned. To no one’s surprise, trying to muscle one’s way out of the grip of a two hundred-something pound man with the thickest thighs imaginable is no easy feat.

And, for Tim, apparently impossible.

He briefly considers calling upon his ice magic again, just to get Jason off of him and hopefully talking like a sane man. Then, the heat flares up again, and he remembers that, sometimes, his magic simply cannot compete with Jason’s fire.

So, he tries reasoning with Jason instead.

“Jason? Are you hurt?” Tim asks tentatively. “What’s going on? Why are you back so soon?”

Jason snuggles into Tim’s neck in response. Tim expects anything but that.

“Jason?” Tim prompts once more. Jason has pulled himself off Tim a hair, so Tim shifts once more to get Jason’s attention.

Finally, Jason lifts his head up to look down at Tim and speaks. “Tim,” he breathes, slurred and heavy. Like this, Tim can see he glazed expression in Jason’s eye. A bad sign, surely. “I missed you.”

Tim’s chest rattles. The bones creak from the effort. This is decidedly strange.

Jason continues nonetheless, dipping his nose back into the crook of Tim’s neck like it belongs there. “Pretty bird, you smell so good. Like a snowy evening in the woods. I really, really like the way you smell.”

Tim swallows his shock and finds his voice. “Are you alright?”

“I am. I’m doing wonderful now that I’m here with you. Baby bird, you’re so pretty like this I can hardly stand it. You always are.”

Tim can’t stand much more of this without his heart imploding.

He squirms against Jason’s hold again, but, instead of getting any leeway, Jason just presses down further with an insistent whine.

“Please, it’s… uncomfortable like this,” Tim gusts.

That’s a big fat lie because being pinned down by Jason actually feels quite nice. Honestly, Jason has never been especially rough with Tim - at least, never when Tim didn’t want it - and right now is no exception.

Regardless, Jason pulls himself off of Tim without complaint. As he does so, he also pulls Tim into his lap to further mouth at the bottom of Tim’s jaw with wet kisses and the faintest hint of teeth that sends Tim leaping straight into wanton headiness.

Tim indulges in it for a few seconds, and then a few more because Jason never fails to make him feel ridiculously, unfairly good. Jason, too, seems to be enjoying himself based on the press of his dick, hard and straining against his pants against Tim’s. For some time, Tim considers just going along with this because Jason’s tongue starts to dip down into the hollow of Tim’s collarbones, and Tim has always been weak there.

But, from this angle, Tim sees clearly the fuzz of Jason’s eyes, unfocused yet fixed on him. So, while he would usually be more than happy to just let Jason tease and nuzzle his way all over and inside him, Tim pointedly pushes Jason away, much to Jason’s displeasure.

Jason growls low and makes a valiant attempt to pull Tim back in closer. He falls back with nothing more than a firm hand and deep frown from Tim, however. Tim’s grateful for it, though also not surprised; for how pushy his personality can be, Jason has never actually pushed Tim before.

“Jason, talk to me. What happened?”

Jason narrows his eyes as if Tim’s speaking a different language. “I came back to see you.”

His tone is blunt, and it tears away at Tim in the strangest way Tim has never known.

“But are you feeling alright?”

“I feel fine. Horny. I want to touch you, make you feel good, baby bird.”

It’s not as if Jason has never said these words before during past, similar encounters. It’s not like they’re new to Tim. And yet, they sound so different now.

Now, Tim grows nervous at the way they roll of Jason’s tongue as if they are simple, sincere dollops of honeyed affection.

So, he nervously says, “Jason, I think you need to go to the Bat Cave. There’s something wrong with you.”

Jason rebels against that idea voraciously. He snarls harder this time before gripping Tim flush against him, scrape of teeth tight against Tim’s neck.

Tim bites back a moan. He doesn’t want to encourage Jason when he’s like this, but, _God_ , does it feel good.

“Don’t make me go. Baby, don’t make me go. Let me stay here with you.”

Jason’s voice hardly stretches beyond a whisper, but the words ring loudly in Tim’s ear.

Tim doesn’t fight against Jason’s hold this time. “I’m not making you go alone. I’ll be right there with you. Promise. I just think it’ll be better if we get you checked out. It’ll make me happier, too.”

Jason’s grip doesn’t slacken, but his breathing grows tamer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

After that, Jason doesn’t fuss nearly as much. He still refuses to be away from Tim for long, hindering Tim’s ability to form a portal large and stable enough for the both of them, but at least he’s agreeable to the idea.

He engulfs Tim easily when they do finally go through the portal, and Tim feels him the entire way there. His heat proves more familiar and comforting than Tim had expected. So much so that the usual vertigo Tim experiences during travel is barely more than a tickle of nausea at the back of his throat.

Then, they arrive. Bruce greets them with his usual frown, and the nausea rises back up in the back of his sinuses with a vengeance.

“And to what do I owe this visit?” Bruce asks, watching on impassively, and Tim must admit that the scene probably looks strange to say the least and absolutely off-putting at the most.

Jason has not pulled away from Tim in the slightest. His back is still right up against Tim’s back, and his nose has only shifted slightly from Tim’s nape up to the crown of his head.

From somewhere close by, Alfred stifles an amused chuckle. At least someone enjoys the show.

“Jason returned from his mission early, and I’m pretty sure the first place he visited upon his return to Gotham was my apartment,” Tim explains awkwardly. “But, I don’t think he’s… completely fine? There seems to be something going on with his mental and emotional processing.”

“That does seem to be the case.” Bruce sighs. “Alright, let’s examine him. Bring him over here.”

He moves, and Alfred goes to meet him. Tim tries to do the same. Abruptly, his attempts are derailed by a clingy, still extremely powerful and built Jason who holds Tim back with a whine.

“Babe, you said you weren’t gonna leave me,” Jason slurs pitifully.

In turn, Bruce’s eyebrows fly up even faster than Superman ever could, and Alfred barely hides his laugh behind a cough.

Burning with embarrassment, Tim soothes Jason to the best of his wearied, exasperated, and confused ability. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll still be here with you even when Bruce and Alfred examine you?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Finally, Jason peels himself away, and Tim can breathe again. Bruce and Alfred set to work quickly with Tim there all the while, hand pressed against Jason’s cheek.

His hands are cold. Tim knows his hands are cold because they always run cold. That’s just the nature of the beast. His beast happens to be a frost dragon.

Jason leans into it regardless. He runs hot in comparison, so perhaps the cold of Tim’s skin consoles him. Either way, Tim keeps his hand up against Jason’s skin, and Jason makes no move to draw away from it. Like a kitten, Jason rumbles with delight, and even Tim can’t hide the sneak fo a small smile across his face.

The moment doesn’t last very long.

“It looks like some kind of neurotoxin that slows cognitive functioning. Not to a significant extent, but enough to still be considered a mild to moderate depressant. Motor functions appear uncompromised,” Bruce rattles off clinically. His movements err towards impassive, but the stretch of thin wrinkles around his deeply-ingrained frown speaks volumes. “He looks overall healthy, though, and the neurotoxin has already begun to become mobilized and metabolized through his system.”

“So, it’s like alcohol without the loss of motor function?” Tim asks.

“That does appear to be the case.”

“Seems pretty ineffective to me, if it still lets him run around as he pleases. Clearly, he was still able to get away and back to Gotham without too much trouble.” Tim pauses as Jason all but head butts his hand. “You think those guys in Ukraine did this to him?

“Possibly, but we won’t know for sure until Jason gives us more information.”

“What about Babs?”

Bruce shakes his head. “She lost track of him pretty quickly.”

“Well, that’s kinda odd, isn’t it?”

“It is what it is.”

The cave falls silent. The conversation, presumably, is quickly reaching its conclusion. Despite Bruce’s claims that the neurotoxin has begun to be metabolized away, Jason still clings fast onto Tim, so Tim resigns himself to being stuck with Jason for the night. Usually, he doesn’t particularly mind falling asleep besides Jason. In his sleep, Jason’s not much more than human space heater who smells nice and all that helps Tim fall asleep.

What he does mind is sleeping besides Jason in the manor because he doubts that either of them will be allowed to just head back to his penthouse at this point.

And, true to his suspicions, Alfred says, “Master Timothy, I have kept your room as you left it for your use. I’m sure the bed will be big enough for the both of you to rest in comfortably.”

Tim undergoes a series of immeasurable pains in order to turn his grimace into a smile. Nonetheless, Alfred gives him a sly smile before walking away to no doubt manage other areas of the house; perhaps he’s gone to tidy up Jason’s old room, in case Jason prefers to sleep there instead.

Tim watches Alfred leave with a poorly-combined mixture of resignation and dread. With Alfred gone, the only buffer between him and Bruce is gone. Slowly, Tim turns. He hopes, praying to some nondescript god, that maybe Bruce will just let Tim haul Jason out of the cave without saying anything.

The god scorns him.

“Tim.”

Tim turns again, this time to face Bruce. He’s older now, with more wrinkles and carefully dyed hair, but no less imposing than he had been years ago.

Tim doesn’t say anything yet because he knows Bruce has more to say.

“I’m glad Jason chose to go to you first,” Bruce says. His voice is quiet but so loud within the wide walls of the cave. Tim feels cowed in its echoes. “You’re good to him.”

Tim blinks. The words strike him as unexpected. He isn’t used to the unexpected.

“He’s good to me, too,” Tim eventually responds. His speech tilts precariously, but he means every word, strangely enough.

Bruce nods before offering a tentative smile. Like this, he really does look like the awkward dad he presents himself as.

Like this, he kinda reminds Tim of Jack.

He punts that thought out of his mind so quickly he nearly cries.

“I’ll be, umm… taking Jason to bed now.” It’s an unwieldy string of words to say in front of Bruce, but, to his credit, Bruce takes it in stride.

“Would you like some help? Jason has a fair amount of weight on you.”

“No, I think I’ll be fine. Jason’s pretty well-behaved right now. Compliant, I guess.”

Bruce nods once more before letting them go. Tim holds his sigh relief in until he reaches his old room, which truly does look just as Tim remembers. He flops down with a tired groan, and Jason follows without a single word.

“Can I finally touch you now?” Jason asks, so sweetly Tim’s teeth ache.

Tim kinda wants to say yes, but he mostly wants to say no because they day has gone on long enough, and he needs some beauty sleep. Or just some regular sleep, even.

“Not tonight. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Ok.”

Regardless, Jason deigns to plant of a few chaste kisses against Tim’s neck, hands broad as they run up the planes of Tim’s back beneath his shirt. He doesn’t do much beyond that, however, so Tim succumbs to the warmth spreading around him, ashy and unknown to this room.

Unknown but not unwelcome.

Jason kisses him again. He murmurs something unintelligible, but Tim chooses to believe that it’s nice but meaningless.

He can’t handle meaning just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my excuse to write a needy jason haha
> 
> if you want to talk to me or want to know more about how you can support me or request a piece of writing, you can find me on [tumblr](https://fever-d-dreams.tumblr.com) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Fevered__Dreams)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a hot minute, hasn't it? my bad

Tim stirs to something horrible weighing him down. He squirms and receives less than an inch of give. Whatever lays on top of him also runs hot, and he feels like he’s overheating, even past the ice he bears.

But he doesn’t want to wake up just yet. He just hopes to make himself comfortable again before drifting back to sleep, lulled by the knowledge that Alfred and Bruce will take care of anything that needs to be taken care of.

That’s what they do, after all, even if they’re not always nice about it in Bruce’s case.

Except, Tim cannot possibly fall back asleep. He suffocates too thoroughly under a hot, dense mass that must weight at least 200 pounds for sleep. He twists again, harder this time, because he suspects that Titus might be snoozing on top of him. After all the treats Damian keeps sneaking him, he’s grown to be quite the hefty boy. Damian always says that it’s just muscle, but Tim knows what fat feels like.

Though, now that he thinks about it, the mass on top of him does mostly feel like a pile of thick, corded muscle. Perhaps that explains why Tim can’t even get a single budge, no matter how hard he tries.

He sighs. Clearly, this isn’t working. So, he opens his eyes, grumbling all the while, in order to finally see for himself exactly what has almost killed him today.

Then, he sees Jason, sprawled above him like a poorly-drawn caricature of a sloth. Tim shifts his head ever-so-slightly to get a better look, and he feels something hot and wet sliding down his shoulder in thick streaks.

Great. Jason’s even drooling on him now.

“Jason,” Tim hisses. “Jason, wake up.”

Silence. Jason’s still dead asleep, and Tim finds it even harder to breathe now.

“Jason, come on. You’re built like a damn linebacker. You can’t do this to me.” Tim struggles more, bucking his hips up against Jason’s to further jostle him, and, finally, Jason begins to wake up.

“What is it? Did Daddy Bats calls us up or something?” Jason mumbles, burying his saliva-covered mouth into Tim’s neck.

“No. You’re killing me,” Tim deadpans. “Let up a bit, will you?”

“But you’re so comfortable, Baby bird. Usually, you’re the one laying on top of me, you know, but I’m started to think that maybe we should start switching things up a bit.”

“If we do, you’re only allowed a single arm and leg. Otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll be waking up to my lifeless body in the morning.”

“Don’t be so cynical,” Jason says. “And also don’t be so stingy.”

“Then maybe you should lose some weight.”

Tim can’t see all that well through the dark, but he still spots the glint of Jason’s teeth regardless.

“But then you wouldn’t like me nearly as much. Everyone knows you’ve got a bit of a muscle fetish, after all,” Jason whispers, pressing down against Tim, and the way he breath wafts over Tim’s skin is absolutely unfair and plain sinful.

And the part of Tim that doesn’t feel terribly lightheaded from the feeling of Jason’s lips beginning to roam across his skin thinks fetish is a harsh word.

He just has a powerful, deep appreciation for the sight of thick, corded muscles. But not overly-built ones. To be frank, those intimidate him a bit. No, what he really likes are the sturdy ones built for actual use over aesthetics like Dick and Kovar have.

Like Jason has.

Jason has, admittedly, one of the best bodies Tim has ever seen. He’s covered head to toe in the best kind of musculature, nice firm without veering into impractical territory, and his thighs in particular are nothing less than a wonder. Tim knows because he’s sat on them before, felt them flex beneath him before as he rutted down against them, so needy and so pleased as Jason murmured sweet words of encouragement his way.

Once, and then twice and beyond, Tim has even jerked himself off while riding Jason’s thighs, to Jason’s undying amusement.

Still, none of that spells fetish. Honest. He just knows how to truly appreciate some nice muscles, and he might have a preference for men with handsome faces who are also built like Jason.

And that means that Tim just has to moan when Jason presses those very thighs around Tim while caging him in with equally as impressive arms.

“Jason,” Tim breathes. The heat Jason emanates lulls him, but the slide of his clothed erection against Tim’s make it impossible to fall back asleep now.

“Yeah? What is it, Pretty Bird?” Jason asks, hovering over him with those eyes of his boring straight down, as if Tim’s made of glass and oh-so easy to see through. “You still want me to get off of you?”

“No,” Tim replies, and that’s all he can manage before wrapping his legs around Jason’s wide, wide frame, pulling him down until he’s suffocating again. This time, however, he revels in it.

Jason’s hips roll down against his own in slow, smooth waves, and Tim feels cast ashore, gripping tight onto Jason’s shoulders for any semblance of purchase he can get because otherwise he’d definitely drown, and Alfred would bitch them out for _weeks_ about it.

Tim meets Jason’s thrusts as best as he can while being pinned down, and the friction Jason gives him has his mind spiraling. He thinks that he should be concerned about the fact that Jason has this kind of power over him, but it feels too good for him to worry about that right now.

“Have you ever had sex in this bed before?” Jason rumbles, hand sliding up Tim’s abdomen from beneath his increasingly annoying shirt. “Did you ever sneak in some hunky boys here while Bruce was out on patrol?”

“Never. I didn’t want to risk the potential embarrassment. Not that it helped, seeing as he caught me anyway,” Tim says.

“So you’ve never brought anyone here? Not even that super clone friend of yours?”

Tim scowls for a split second at that before dropping it in favor of another moan when Jason’s hand dips down.

“I already said no,” Tim breathes.

Jason smirks. Doing so makes him look way too fucking good. “So does that mean I’m the first?”

Tim doesn’t respond. Jason already knows the answer, after all. Instead, he snakes his arms up around Jason’s neck to pull him down into a kiss because Jason can’t ask such obvious and embarrassing questions if his mouth is otherwise occupied. Jason follows Tim’s half-baked plan perfectly. He kisses with so much purpose that Tim forgets his own, and Tim’s more than happy to go along with the ride.

They spend some time like that, kissing under the covers just like those wild and horny teens Tim had never really been with Bruce hovering over him. Then, Jason begins to snake his big, rough palm beneath that band of Tim’s sweatpants.

“You up for it now, or are you still too tired?” Jason asks, and that, at least, tells Tim that Jason still remembers the rest of the night. He’s also largely unflappable about his neediness, which Tim both can’t comprehend and envies. Though, that might be because all of his attention is pinned on and primed for Jason. Not to mention, the succubus and dragon refuse to let the opportunity pass this time.

So, Tim can’t help but say, “Let’s do this.”

Jason laughs at that, voice low, reverberating through Tim’s chest. Even his hand seems to vibrate because of it, and, God, does it feel good against Tim’s growing erection.

“Look who’s finally being naughty for once,” Jason hums, using his other hand to pull of Tim’s shirt before divesting him of his pants too. “Are you excited? Now that you finally have the chance to get fucked like this in one of your childhood beds with ol’ Daddy Bats lingering nearby?”

Tim opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, his toes curl up dangerously tight, and his head swirls into blinding hues of blues and reds as Jason removes his own clothes. In the dark, his scars seem to pop even more than usual, but Tim doesn’t mind them at all. In fact, he cynically thinks that there might be something nice in the way the feel under his fingertips, prickled and pinched compared to the rest of Jason’s smooth skin and muscles.

Though, Jason would likely always be attractive, no matter what. Not to mention, right now, he looks like a damn god, and Tim’s in the mood to worship.

He lifts himself up by his elbows in an attempt to shimmy his way down the bed until his mouth meets Jason’s cock. Sometimes, a guy’s just gotta feel the head of a hard dick against the back of his throat. The succubus shares his sentiments wholeheartedly.

Jason, on the other hand, does not approve.

He holds Tim down with a firm grip once he realizes what Tim’s trying to do. Like the damn traitor it has become over the past few months, Tim’s dick stirs even more at that.

“You don’t want it?” Tim asks when his breath finally settles some.

Jason shakes his head. “Not today, Baby bird. I don’t think I’d last very long if you went down on me, but I definitely want to fuck you tonight. So, now blowjobs or coming down your throat tonight, unfortunately.”

Tim wrinkles his nose. “That’s one way to phrase it.”

“You know I hate being coy. You’re much better at that, anyway. It’s why everyone loves you so much. Why Ra’s does, at least.”

“Are you really gonna talk about creepy old men right now, or are you gonna fuck me like you keep saying you want to?” Tim asks, impatient and hard with Jason’s wonderful thighs still so warm and thick beneath him.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll get there.”

And get there they do.

Jason often does things without any warning. Tim knows this for a fact from plenty of first-hand experience. So, he shouldn’t be so surprised by Jason manhandling him to drag him away to spacious bathroom connected to Tim’s bedroom.

Regardless, he’s surprised.

“Jas — “

Jason cuts him off by divesting Tim of his shirt in a single, smooth motion. Then, as he continues to cradle Tim into the crook of one arm, he hauls Tim’s lips towards his own with his free hand. His movements are rough. His tongue, however, moves so smooth, and Tim’s mind floats.

He crashes a bit when Jason sets him down against the cold countertop, though. He also doesn’t appreciate having the bathroom lights turned on so suddenly, but at least Jason has the decency to dim them. None of that stops Tim from accidentally letting out the most embarrassing whine to ever trip out of his mouth, though.

Jason, predictably, derives amusement from that.

“Someone’s eager,” Jason notes. He looks far too handsome with that smirk on his face, and the whole thing is only made worse after he takes off his own shirt.

He looks good. Jason always looks good. Tim would hate him for it if he didn’t always looks so damn _good_.

“I would just prefer to go back to sleep sooner than later,” Tim argues. It’s a poor argument, and Jason sees right through it, but he lets it slide in favor of removing the rest of their clothes before pushing his leg in-between Tim’s.

His thighs feel even better like this, bare and firm against Tim’s dick. Tim groans at the friction like he’s never gotten hard before in his life.

Jason grins. He bares teeth, like a beast on the hunt. The sight turns Tim on far more than he’d like to admit.

“Hey, remember that one time I talked about how much I wanted to fuck you in front of a mirror just so you could see yourself?” Jason asks. His tone floats by deceptively sweet.

Tim gives no response of any kind. His expression must give him away, though, because Jason just continues with the same silky smirk of his.

“Well, this bathroom has a pretty nice mirror, doesn’t it? Two mirrors, in fact. The big one that’ll really show it all, and even a full-length one that’ll really give us a good show.” Jason pauses in order to let the cloying silence stretch over them as he slides a warm hand up beneath Tim’s ass. “How about it? It’ll be lots of fun. Promise.”

Tim should say no. He has a complete, fully-functioning mind to say no because doing so will keep him from spiraling into something terribly delicious.

Except, he doesn’t say no. He doesn’t even say anything remotely close.

“Yes,” Tim gusts in response, and he finds it difficult to regret it.

Because Jason barrels through him like a man determined, set on his mission and spurred on by a virtue only he understands, and Tim loves it.

Jason pushes against him harder, hands roaming everywhere. His fingers circle Tim’s entrance, rough on the tips, but soft on the pads. Eventually, he will have to return to the bedroom to get some lube from Tim’s bedside drawer — if it’s still there — but, for now, he wills himself to stay by busying himself with laying long, white kisses down and over Tim’s neck and collarbones.

And Tim lays claim to no complaints against that.

“You probably don’t have any lube in here, huh?” Jason mumbles against his skin. His words reverberate, and Tim shudders with it.

“Sorry, I never got into the habit of fingering myself in the bath like they do in those old-fashioned romance movies,” Tim says flatly. Or, as flatly as he can when his breath heaves from want.

Jason, at least, still laughs. “That’s too bad. It’s really nice, you know.”

“I’ll have to try it out one day.”

“I could help you with that.”

Tim shrugs. “Whichever comes first, I guess.”

“Don’t be so coy.”

“Sorry, being coy is in my nature. You know, with the succubus and everything. You said so yourself.”

“Guess I can’t argue with you there,” Jason says before pulling himself away from Tim, so slow he hardly looks like he moves at all. Then, all at once, the warmth fades, and he leaves Tim behind. Though, Tim doesn’t exactly begrudge the chance to watch the flex of Jason’s back as he does.

Not to mention, Jason returns before long, and he’s even quicker to slick himself up, dick pressed up firm against Tim’s ass.

“Do you need to be prepped today, or is this fine?” Jason asks, needy.

Tim likes Jason needy. He loves to see Jason wanting for him because the sight of Jason so desperate for him turns him on far more than anything or anyone else has ever managed.

Coincidentally, he hates feeling needy himself.

So, he says, “It’s fine. Just go slow,” and Jason follows his directions to a T, contrarily enough.

He pushes in at a teasing pace, and Tim very nearly dies from the wait. Except, he really does need it slow because Jason’s big, and Tim really doesn’t finger himself all the much.

Though maybe he should. Perhaps, it’s time to go and get himself a nice dildo like Kon always tells him to.

Or, he can just have Jason fuck into him all smooth like this, quivering from the strain of holding himself back. His biceps look tense, and his triceps don’t fair much better, but, God, does Tim love that.

“You can be rougher than that,” Tim whispers regardless because he, too, can’t stand to wait much longer. “I’m not that easy to break.”

“Just don’t ask for anything you can’t handle, Pretty bird,” Jason rumbles.

“I don’t.”

Jason rises to the challenge immediately. He doesn’t exactly thrust in without abandon, but his pace definitely quickens, and, _oh_ , the slide and burn feels so, so good as Jason fills Tim up.

The succubus melts with a happy sigh. The dragon, on the other hand, rears it head to preen.

And all Tim can do with all that going on is throw his arms around Jason’s neck to pull him into a sloppy kiss. At the same time, Jason snaps his hips up pointedly, and, now, the real fun begins.

The bathroom countertop digs into Tim’s back uncomfortably, but he refuses to break the kiss just to whine about it. Thankfully, Jason possesses enough sense and goodwill to lift Tim up before he starts aching too badly.

Unfortunately, he also interprets that as an invitation to start manhandling Tim. He slips out, and, for that, Tim really does start whining because, please, he _just_ got in. Jason pushes back in quickly enough, however, except he now stands with his chest flush against Tim’s back, grip firm around his waist as Jason holds him up far enough for him to see his ruddy cock in the bottom edge of the mirror in front of them.

For the life of him and all the innocent people of Gotham, not a single, coherent part of Tim understands why Jason wants him to see himself like this with such vehemence because Tim only sees a hot mess staring back at him — emphasis on the mess. His face is flushed an unflattering red, and that same hue extends down across his chest in splotchy increments. His chest heaves, his eyes glaze over from desire, and his hair puffs outwards haphazardly; his bedhead has never been the most elegant, after all.

And yet, despite all the overwhelming evidence on the contrary, Jason still goes ahead and buries his nose in the crook of his neck, crooning like he’s the best damn thing Jason has ever seen.

“Look at you.” Jason’s breath floats straight across his skin, and even that feels unfairly good. “There’s a reason people like to call you the pretty bird, you know.”

“I’m not convinced that we’re looking at the same thing here,” Tim says. “But thanks for the compliment, anyway. It’s nice to see that your pillow talk extends beyond to bedroom, too.”

“Don’t be so modest, and don’t be so blind.”

Tim opens his mouth to respond, but the only thing he manages to get out is another moan as Jason begins thrusting once more, this time with plenty of vigor and feeling. They feel delicious, and Tim wants nothing more then to relax and just let Jason fuck him good and hard, like he always does. In general, Jason lives and breathes delicious, especially during moments like these when he surrounds Tim so thoroughly, all hot and attentive. At the same time, Tim’s reflection turns the illusion harsh, so he closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and resigns himself to just enjoy the ride while Jason does all the grunt work.

Except, Jason refuses to make it that easy.

“Come on, Tim, what are you doing? I thought we agreed on having you watch yourself while I fucked you.”

“I never agreed to anything remotely close to that. I just let you bring me here because you seemed to adamant about it, and it’s impossible to go against you when you’re adamant,” Tim argues, as best as he can with Jason’s dick up his ass, hitting him in all the right places like he always does. In other words, his voice wavers like the puffed tail of a small kitten, and he just knows that Jason remains unconvinced.

“But then what’s the point of us being here if you’re not gonna take advantage of the new scenery?” Jason asks.

“A nice change of pace, I guess.”

“Guess again.”

Tim mewls pitifully. He can’t keep up this half-assed argument for much longer. His head’s filled with too much pearly-hot, feel-good sensations for that. Still, he feels fairly confident in himself despite that.

After all, Jason, too, loves a good fuck, and, usually, he’s more than agreeable to whatever Tim does or doesn’t want. They’re compatible that way. It’s what makes the sex so damn good. Part of it, at least.

However, Jason, apparently, has chosen to be as contrary as possible today.

He stills, presumably waiting for Tim’s next response. Tim gives none, save for a greedy little wiggle of his hips, but even that doesn’t move Jason. And it almost always does.

Because, instead of giving in like Tim expects, Jason holds him up in an steel-wrought grip before pulling right out of him without a single ounce of hesitation.

“Jason,” Tim whimpers. He sounds pathetic. His lustful shame bounces off against the tiles with a grating trill, and he hates hearing himself like that.

Jason, though, smiles in response. “Just play along, yeah? If you do, I’ll treat you really nice.” He punctuates his point by rubbing his cock against Tim’s ass at a maddening, teasing pace. Tim pushes back in desperation. Once again, Jason doesn’t budge.

“Jason, _please_.”

He’s begging now. Tim hates to beg, but he’s just a person, at the end of the day. He can only weather so much.

Jason coos sweetly at Tim’s insistence, but he still stands his ground, firm. “Please right back at you, Pretty bird. I really do want this, you know.”

Clearly.

Jason slides his dick up against the crack of his ass again. Tim wants too, and he knows that, when push come to shove, Jason will eventually fold and just do whatever Tim wants because he’s a weird breed of gentleman like that.

He’s good to Tim like that.

So, Tim decides to give in, just this once. Next time, he vows to himself as he slowly pins his reflection in the mirror down with reluctant eyes, he’ll be just as stubborn.

This time, though, he’ll play nice.

“Fine. I’ll… look at myself,” Tim says lamely.

Jason grins even wider. Tim knows because he can feel the stretch of his mouth against his skin.

“That’s the spirit,” and, then, he’s in again.

Jason picks up the pace quickly after that, and Tim finds himself grateful once again for his impressive swathe of muscle because he can’t even pretend to hold himself up like this. He can barely even keep his eyes open from how good it feels, but Jason reminds him with a sharp nip to his shoulder each time his gaze slips.

At least Jason’s efforts distract Tim a bit from it all. He still doesn’t quite understand what Jason wants him to see, though, because, honestly, Jason’s the real star of this scene. His hair sweeps to the side, and the white shock of his bangs frames his face beautifully. Of course, Tim also has a front-row view to the show that is Jason mid-fuck. That, too, really catches his attention.

His grip tightens with a particularly harsh thrust that has Tim scrambling for a moment, but his gaze barely strays from Jason’s reflection.

And yet, Jason seems to disagree.

“God, I could look at you like this every day,” Jason whispers in-between his kisses against Tim’s nape. “You look so good like that, you know. With your eyes all glazed over like that and with your skin flushed that pretty baby pink. Oh, and the way you dip your head back like that gets me every time. You always get me.”

Tim doesn’t. He doesn’t get it, but he goes along with it anyway because Jason feels even better than he looks.

Regardless, he struggles to look at the mirror the whole time, even with Jason’s incessant encouragement as he details just how good Tim looks stretched long and tall by Jason’s ministrations, and how his chest still heaves prettily despite that — not to mention Tim’s face as he moans, scrunched up in pleasure and so great like that — but none of that really matters, in the end. All Tim cares about is the way Jason’s hits all his sweet spots with borderline terrifying precision, and the way he can feel Jason’s dick pulse inside of him as he gets closer.

Though, Jason also grows wordier and more demanding the closer he gets.

“Love seeing you like this, babe. I love seeing you feeling so good because of me. I bet no one else has ever made you feel this good, huh?” Jason says in a flurry.

Tim nods in clumsily response. It’s all he can manage, but Jason, somehow, is right. He’s never felt so, so good with anyone else, and that fact scares him if he thinks about it too long.

Thankfully, Jason doesn’t give him the chance to think about it. Unfortunately, he does so by planting a big, hot hand beneath Tim’s chin so he can wrench his face forward to look at the mirror with a steadier gaze.

“You’re not looking properly,” Jason rumbles. Tim tries his luck at breaking away, but Jason’s grip remains staunch.

Tim continues to squirm anyway. “Jason, I can’t.”

“Please, Tim. For me?”

Jason sounds sweet. He smells nice. He feels like everything. Like this, Tim just cannot refuse him, no matter how much he wants to.

So, he looks. He stares straight ahead and sees himself shaking and, quite frankly, pitiful. Then, he sees Jason also staring at him, eyes steeped with want and the deepest appreciation, and Tim decides he enjoys looking at that more.

Their gazes lock through the mirror. Jason quickens his pace, and Tim knows he won’t last much longer because Jason is too damn good to him.

He comes soon afterwards with that thought rattling through his head and the sight of Jason’s heated expression taking over everything Tim knows. Jason follows within the minute, and the succubus revives itself from its cocoon of pleasure for just long enough to croon with satisfaction at the feeling.

And the dragon roars its joy.

Tim just lets out one last drawn-out sight before slumping back against Jason who continues to support him with ease.

“Jason,” Tim sighs. He feels lightheaded, confused, and not entirely within his own body, but it’s nice. He tilts his head back for a kiss. Jason obliges him immediately.

“Yeah, I’m right here. I got you.”

Jason, the poor guy, ends up having to clean them both up. He wipes down Tim’s cum-covered abdomen and chest before carefully cleaning him of Jason’s cum, much to the succubus’ displeasure. He quickly gives himself a quick once-over before gently hauling Tim away from the bathroom back into bed, and Tim sinks into the mattress with a grateful sigh and eyes half-closed.

Jason joins him before long. The bed dips with his weight, and he snakes himself around Tim almost immediately. Lips fall on Tim’s neck. Apparently, that’s Jason’s favorite part of Tim today.

Those very same lips sneak over to Tim’s shortly afterwards. Tim follows the twirl and rove of Jason’s tongue lazily before he falls asleep again, swaddled in Jason and so very sated.

“Good night, Baby bird.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next time he wakes, Tim heads straight to the bathroom to make sure he looks presentable because Alfred’s at the door, telling them that breakfast is ready and that Master Bruce expects their presence at the table in a timely manner to discuss things.

And Tim hates discussing things with Bruce.

“Stop worrying so much. You look fine,” Jason says from behind him. “Hand me a toothbrush, will ya?”

Jason remains his own brand of aloof the whole way through, even as Bruce stares the two of them down during breakfast. He even ignores Damian’s gratuitous nose wrinkles, and, for that, Tim has to commend him.

Though, he does prickle up when Bruce finally starts talking.

“Jason, why don’t you tell me exactly what happened last night?”

Jason glares once before diving right into it.

“Ukraine was a bust. The only people there are lakeys who got left behind to clean up the mess of the real ring leaders. But, I guess they still had a few nice things left behind to help them out against anyone who wanted to try and investigate them. Like some fucking Manticores and plenty of possessed witches who did quite the number on us.”

“And a means of drugging you?” Bruce asks.

“Thanks to their witches. They could brew a mean elixir, too. But, I mean, they weren’t too much trouble to deal with in the very end.”

“And then they just let you go?”

Jason shrugs. His fork scrapes across his plate loudly, and he leaves a smear of maple simple syrup glaze behind.

“Not really. Kori helped me out, but she apparently decided to send me off into a portal after I had been… too disruptive and annoying for her taste. I guess she figured Tim over here would take good care of me. And she was right, clearly.”

Bruce sighs so heavily Tim nearly crumples beneath the force of it.

“So you didn’t get any new information out of it?” Bruce asks.

“Now, now, don’t jump the gun just yet,” Jason drawls. “I never said that. I just said Ukraine was a bust.”

Bruce bares his fangs — just a touch.

“But that doesn’t mean it was a complete bust. I managed to catch a hint that their main base of operation is, like I thought, in Russia. Kazan, to be more specific.” Jason pauses to down his cup of coffee, undeterred by the way it must burn hot down his throat because nothing really feels that hot to him. “So, are you finally gonna let me go to Russia to take these assholes out?”

Bruce deliberates to himself for as long as he can when he knows that, yes, he has to let Jason go to Russia even though he hates the thought of sending Jason so far for what will likely be a fairly extended period of time because Bruce likes to be in control like that.

Except, he cannot control Jason the way he used to.

Bruce sighs again, and his shoulders sag with it.

“Fine. You can go. _But_ I expect regular correspondence from you. No exceptions. No matter what,” Bruce says.

“I’ll try my best,” and that’s as good as he’ll get from Jason.

And this is Tim’s chance, perhaps.

So, he cuts in with a, “Let me go, too,” and Bruce’s head nearly explodes from how quickly he turns sour.

“Absolutely not,” he says.

At the same time, Jason growls, “No way, Tim.”

Alfred says nothing, but he looks tired all of a sudden. Damian just smirks.

Tim seethes.

“Why not? You know I can help, and it’s not like Gotham needs me right now. Everyone else has Gotham perfectly under control,” Tim argues. He drops his fork against the nice plates Alfred has set out for them, to his consternation, but Tim’s so angry he can’t even be bothered with Alfred right now.

Which says a lot.

Bruce, also, doesn’t seem to care much for anyone’s opinion save his own. “You know exactly why. It’s not safe for you, especially, to be going around, facing an international group of creature hunters.” His voice dips down into something softer, and his face smooths. He’s playing dirty now, and Tim hates that it kinda works. “You know that, Tim.”

“I’d feel better knowing that I’ve actually helped get rid of them instead of sitting around, twiddling my thumbs until someone else has.”

“And we’d feel better if you’d just stay put and try to be safe for once,” Jason says. “All of us would.”

“Don’t speak for me,” Damian snaps.

“Don’t be a brat,” Jason snaps back, and only Alfred’s disapproving frown stops them from continuing on like that.

This time, Tim sighs. “Look, I get what you’re trying to do and what you’re saying, but think about all the people who are going to be hurt just because I’m sitting in Gotham, hoping all this will just solve itself.”

“But it won’t. I’ll solve it,” Jason argues.

“Yes, but after how long? Babs is doing her best, I know, but she can’t do the things I can.” Tim pauses. “She doesn’t have a dragon’s eye like I do.”

“And that’s exactly why you can’t go out there and put yourself in danger like that,” Bruce says.

“Please,” Tim implores because even Bruce, on occasion, is moved by heartfelt pleas and the like. “I can’t sit by like this and do nothing anymore. I’ll be with Jason the whole time.” He glances over at Jason for good measure. “Promise.”

Silence washes over them, save for the twine of Damian’s silverware over carefully-polished plates. At least he seems willing to throw Tim to the wolves in the middle of the Russian tundra.

To be honest, Tim might ask him to do just that.

Bruce sets his own silverware down with a harsh clatter. He doesn’t look entirely steadfast, however, so Tim interprets that as its own kind of victory. He has to take as much as he can get, after all.

“I don’t want to discuss this right now,” Bruce eventually announces. Now, he’s steadfast and utterly impossible to argue against. “Jason won’t be leaving for awhile, anyway. Let’s just enjoy our breakfast in some semblance of peace for once.”

“Oh, that’s good. Drake can’t leave too soon, you know. He still has business to attend to.”

Damian says his name with a kind swoop of his lip. That, in and of itself, heralds something terrible, and Tim has not prepared for this.

“In fact, I’m pretty sure that he has scheduled a meeting with Grandfather for this afternoon.”

Time stops. Nobody breathes. Even Alfred looks frozen. Then, he cocks his eyebrow, and the chaos begins.

There’s no peace to be had today. Typical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe this chapter was like 80% sex scene 
> 
> anyway, please let me know what you think!
> 
> if you want to talk to me or want to know more about how you can support me or request a piece of writing, you can find me on [tumblr](https://fever-d-dreams.tumblr.com) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Fevered__Dreams)


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